


Rise and Fall

by zachwen



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Indominus Rex, Buttloads of Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Jurassic-sized Gay Times, M/M, Mentioning Original Male Character, Mentions of past Claire/Owen, Non-Canonical Backstory, Owen is a well-meaning asshole, Slow Build, So much angst, The Raptor Squad - Freeform, Zach and Gray fight a fair bit at the start, Zach thinks he hates dinosaurs but honestly he's just a lil shit with anger issues, at least at the very start but i promise he gets better, i mean they're not ripping each others pants off the second they meet so, poor bby, sort of, what a twat, zachwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:36:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4404695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zachwen/pseuds/zachwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You like the sea?" Owen asks, smiling.</p><p>"It reminds me of home." Zach says, and Owen's heart threatens to split in two. He remembers that feeling; that deep, ingrained need to be surrounded by the sound of the ocean and the smell of seawater. The rise and fall of the waves moving in time to the beat of his heart. He'd forgotten it, somewhere around the time he'd forgotten what it was like to go to sleep without a bottle of whiskey in his hands… but he can remember it now. It reminds him of home, and that's something he hasn't felt in years.</p><p>____</p><p> </p><p>In which the Indominus Rex was always just a rumor and the December incident of Jurassic World never happened. Zach is eighteen and looking for work when he meets the raptors --- in the most unfortunate way. His mentor, ex-navy Owen Grady, is unbelievably hot, only slightly damaged and --- well, really fucking hot. </p><p>Welcome to Jurassic World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Riptide

 Waves rock the cruise ship gently, lapping at the pearly sides as it cuts through the water. A blur of green and grey peaks on the horizon, just the faintest outline of a sheer mountaintop and forests sticking up among the endless blue. 

Zach's more interested in another sort of view. Namely, the two blonde girls giggling up at him from the platform to his left. He's not game enough to approach them --- not that he wants to, really --- but he sees nothing wrong with enjoying the attention. Gray thinks otherwise.  

"Zach, look!" His younger brother urges, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. Zach shakes him off, leaning against the railing as he rolls his eyes. Gray has already interrupted him twice now to point out different clouds, listing their names like only a nerd --- sorry, _genius_ like Gray could.

"Oh wow, a cloud that looks exactly like the last four we saw." He drawls, laying the sarcasm on thick. " _Mind-blowing_." 

Gray's face falls, a look of annoyance quickly covering the sting of dismissal. "No, the island!" He whines, and Zach sighs, lifting his gaze from the blondes to finally look at Isla Nublar. And as much as he hates to admit it, he's glad Gray told him to look up. It's the sort of place that belongs in adventure novels or travel brochures; with tall, reaching mountain terrain and green forests that stretch across the land. From where he stands, he can just make out the buzzing shape of a crowd on the shore line, spilling off the dock and into the entrance of the theme park. 

As the cruiseliner nears the beach, Zach inhales sharply. He might hate the reason they're here in the first place, but the island definitely is amazing. The other tourists around them shout and whistle in excitement as the ship reaches the harbour, the bridge unfolding to allow the passengers off. Zach reaches for Gray, to make sure he doesn't get lost in the crowd, but it's unnecessary. The thirteen year old clings to his arm, his grey-green eyes wide in awe. 

It takes a fucking century to get off the ramp, but finally the pair step onto the dock. They get swept into the rush of the crowd immediately, as overhead, the announcer greets them with a loud, " _Welcome to_ _Jurassic World_."

 

 

Once the initial excitement wears away, Zach wants nothing more to collapse on the hotel bed and sleep for a century. He'd had to deal with Gray's constant nattering the entire plane trip and on the cruise, so he can't help the beat of relief he feels in his chest when their british babysitter unlocks the door and lets them into the room. 

It's decent, at least; with two double beds and a flatscreen TV on the opposite wall, two wooden sliding panels opening up to a balcony. The whole room is outfitted in shades of gold, white tiles leading to a small kitchenette in the far corner. Zach rolls his shoulders, dumps their bags on the bed, and flops down beside them. 

"Your aunt has given you VIP passes so you can go on all the rides. Zach, she expects you to head towards the training center first thing tomorrow morning. I'll escort Gray around the park while you're working." Zara says, her voice clipped. 

Zach looks over at her with a glower, dread chasing the relief away. He's eighteen now, and his parents had nagged him about how the dinosaur theme park would be a good source of income for the summer holidays. Zach knows what that actually means: that they want a few weeks of peace while they sort through their _unsubtle-as-all-fuck_ divorce papers. They can try brush it off as much as they like, but neither Zach nor Gray are stupid enough to fall for that. 

It's been a slow-burning fuse for the past four years, and no amount of forced smiles will hide the fact that their marriage is in pitiful shambles.

"Is Aunt Claire coming with us?" Gray asks. The eagerness in his voice almost makes Zach feel guilty --- _almost_. As if he'd get excited by a bunch of scaly overgrown rats. He _hates_ dinosaurs, with a passion. He'd sooner clean gum off a sidewalk with his teeth than get near one of the things.

Still, it beats having to watch his parents pretend they're _not_ two ticks of a clock from ripping each others' throats out. 

Aunt Claire doesn't visit them that night, and they go to bed on full stomachs --- thanks to the _all-you-can-eat_ buffet downstairs. If Zach ever so much as _sees_ a chicken drumstick again, he'll throw up.

"Where are you going to work?" Gray says from his bed, his voice too loud in the dark room. Zach rolls over under the thin sheets, grimacing.

"Somewhere. Go to sleep." He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut again.

"But what are you going to do?"

" _Gray._ Fuckin' sleep." He snaps, groaning. "I'm going to train goldfish, what the fuck do you think?"

His brother is silent for a long time, and Zach thinks, blissfully, that he's fallen asleep. His head aches, and he's got to be up at _ass o'clock_ tomorrow to go apply for whatever job is free. His eyes are just beginning to slip shut again, sleep fogging his mind, when Gray speaks up again, his voice quiet and drawn.

"Goodnight, Zach." He whispers. 

Zach doesn't answer.

It feels as though his head has barely hit the pillow before his alarm is blaring into his ear, though it barely stirs Gray. Zach groans, rubbing his eyes, and for the fourth time regrets eating that much food last night. He rolls off the bed, all but crawling towards his unpacked suitcase, and awkwardly shrugs into a pair of black jeans and a white tee, donning his grey hoodie before ducking out the door. 

The still-dark park is quiet, the only people awake at this hour park officials and employees. He shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to remember the directions Aunt Claire had left him. She'd mentioned a park ranger that did the morning patrol, and sure enough, there's an older man with grey hair and a sun-worn face waiting beside a park jeep near the boundary fence. He approaches and clears his throat. 

"Uh, my aunt said you might be able to offer me a ride to the training center." He begins, and the man fixes him with a condescending smirk, the lines on his forehead deepening. 

"That's great, son, but if I let every skinny runt come with me because their aunt _said so_ , I'd be out of business very quickly." The ranger snorts, opening the driver's door to climb in.

Zach flushes in embarrassment. "My aunt's Claire Dearing. She works here." He adds hurriedly, and the other man pauses halfway in the door, his face draining. 

"Claire Dearing, huh? Well shit, excuse me. Hop in and I'll give you a lift." The ranger sighs, motioning for him to follow. 

Zach doesn't give him a second to rethink his decision, climbing into the jeep's passenger seat and settling into the worn leather. It smells of cigarette smoke and sweat, but it's better than having to walk some trail out in the middle of Dinoville. The ranger's age clearly does not guarantee wisdom, nor the ability to drive, and Zach isn't sure it's possible for a jeep to bounce that much over relatively flat terrain. The trail is surrounded by greenery, wild forests and mossy trees lining the path. By the time they break out of the trees, pulling up into a gravel clearing, the sun is beginning to creep up the sky. Zach thanks the ranger before sliding out of the car, toying with the strings of his hoodie as the jeep pulls away. 

The "training center" is relatively big, with a compound building to one side of the clearing; the yellow lights of what looks to be an office spilling out onto the dirt. To his right, tall concrete and steel walls disappear off into the forest, broken only by a barred cage that acts as a gateway through the barriers. He can hear chatter from inside, so he makes his way over, hoping to find someone in charge. The cage itself is empty, but a set of metal stairs lead up to the barriers, and he grips the railing, climbing them carefully. It opens out onto a narrow bridge that arches over the enclosure, and he'd been right. Two younger men walk around in the area below, carrying metal buckets and a box of tools. As Zach moves towards the middle of the bridge, the men disappear back behind the bars, and he opens his mouth to call out.

"Hey, what are you doing up here?" 

Zach spins, gripping the rails in surprise, to stare at the gangly teenager who interrupted him. He's shorter than Zach, with a beaky nose and nervous eyes, but there's an official Jurassic World emblem on his shirt. "I was looking for the, uh… the ---"

_"Loose pig!"_

Zach startles again at the shout, and the kid's eyes fly wide open. He extends his metal pole, shoving past him to lean over the railing. Zach looks down, frowning, as the apparent chaos ensues. A squealing pig bolts across the open ground, making for the closed cage. The young employee leans down. He reaches out with the pole, just as Zach hears the sound of crackling bracken, and two grey bodies dart out of the bushes. The kid jolts as the metal pole is wrenched downwards, and Zach lunges to grab his arm before he falls to the ground. 

It happens in a split second. As he tries to yank the smaller boy back, the bolts in the metal railing shriek in protest, and suddenly the bars are giving way and Zach is plummeting downwards, the ground rushing up towards him --- 

It feels like eternity before the world finally ebbs back into view. Zach blinks the black spots from his vision, a blinding pain throbbing in his head. He's sprawled out in the dirt, every bone in his body aching terribly. But that's not what concerns him most. 

Three grey, rough-skinned heads are no more than a few feet from his, peering down at him with a terrifying intent. Zach gasps, scrambling backwards, but the dinosaurs just advance. Behind him, he hears a man yell, and a rush of footsteps, but he doesn't dare turn away. The creatures just stare at him; piercing, slitted eyes burning a hole into him, like he's got a target painted on his chest. They don't take another step forward though, and the blissful sound of the gate opening has him inching backwards through the dirt. 

"It's okay, kid, I got you."

A firm grip wraps around his forearm, gently but quickly hauling him towards the cage, before his saviour --- a blond man in grey cargo pants and a brown vest --- moves in front of him. Zach takes the opportunity to crawl the rest of the way to safety, gasping for breath, as the man faces off the dinosaurs in the enclosure. 

"Close the gate." The stranger calls back, and the other trainer in the cage mutters something in french before hitting the red button on the control box, watching in dismay. The blond edges towards them, before making a diving leap backwards, rolling to his feet just as the gate slams shut behind him.

Zach relaxes against the metal bars, letting his racing heart slow down, as the blond stranger finally looks up at him. Zach freezes under the burning green stare, getting a good look at his saviour. The man can't be much older than him, with a mess of golden-brown hair and tanned skin, his muscles still impossibly defined under his work shirt and the leather army-grade vest.

"Why the hell didn't they attack you?" The man says, abrupt, and Zach shrinks backwards, wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He'd wanted a job --- not a near-death experience and enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. "And why were you in my enclosure?"

Zach swallows. "I --- uh, I don't know. And my aunt sent me. She said the trainers had a few positions open ---"

"Ever wondered why that is?" The man points out, and Zach's face drains of colour. As if sensing his utter horror, the taller man reaches out, offering a hand. Zach takes it, wincing as his muscles protest at getting up. "You okay, kid? That was quite a fall you took there. I'm surprised you're not a pancake."

Zach dusts his jeans off. "I'm fine." He replies, though his ass says otherwise. 

"I'm Owen Grady, and the animals you just met are my raptors. Find your way into their cage again and I can promise you it won't go that well." The man --- Owen warns, and Zach snorts. 

"That's what you call _going well?_ " 

Owen looks down at him with a steady gaze, his eyes flashing. "Considering you're not in pieces right now, yes."

Zach drops his gaze, but he's saved from replying. The other trainer makes his reappearance, looking decidedly less distressed, and he pats Zach on the back, grinning. "Ignore Owen. He's just upset that his girls listened to someone other than him." He teases, his accent curling around the words.

Owen snorts. "Yeah, right, Barry. I'm just curious as to how the hell he's not raptor chow right now." He says, lifting his hands defensively. 

Barry glances down at Zach, offering him a knowing smile, but doesn't argue with the other man. "You said you were looking for work?" He asks.

Zach opens his mouth, gaping like a fish for one embarrassing moment before he remembers how to speak. "I'm Zach Mitchell. My aunt --- Claire Dearing," He adds, remembering the weight her name alone had carried earlier this morning. "She said I needed to look for work in the park and that this place'd be a good start." He explains. Zach doesn't miss the way Owen rolls his eyes at the name, snorting as he turns to face the enclosure, but he decides against commenting. He knows his aunt isn't exactly the most likable person ever --- what with how competitive she could get. But she's a good person underneath all the workaholic attitude, that he's sure of. 

"Consider yourself on a trial period." Barry says. "I'd like to see what you can do with the raptors." He says, the interest in his voice temporarily distracting Zach from what he'd just said. 

"Wait, the dino --- the raptors?" He corrects quickly, feeling Owen's eyes narrow at him. "You want me to work with _them?_ "

Barry chuckles. "Or you can go find a job cleaning dishes for the park McDonalds. It's up to you, brother." He says, his voice light with amusement as he picks his tool box up. "Stick around here if you want. There's a bunk just off base where the trainers all stay when they're off-duty. Owen can show you the ropes."

Zach's heart drops into his stomach, at the same time the blond's head snaps up to glare at his partner. "You're kidding me, Barry. You want me to babysit _him?_ " He asks.

Okay, that one hurt a little. It's bad enough that he has to work at all, when Gray's off having fun, and he's already under _a lot_ of fucking stress, what with his parents and everything going on his head. The last thing he needs is a condescending asshole for a mentor and a pack of raptors trying to eat him. He feels the embarrassing, hot sting of tears in his eyes, and swallows at the lump in his throat. Stupid fucking hormones.

But Barry is already gone, whistling a simple tune as he disappears out of the cage. Zach looks up nervously to meet Owen's gaze, but the raptor trainer just brushes past him. "Make yourself useful and go find that idiot that knocked you into the cage. Get a spare set of bunk keys off him and hurry up. I'll introduce you to the girls but then I'm heading home." 

Zach swallows and does as he's told, returning five minutes later with the keys jangling in his hoodie pocket. The raptors are in their containment cells, their jaws firmly secured in black headgear. From this perspective, they don't look nearly as terrifying, but Zach can still sense the intelligence in their predatory gazes. These aren't half-brained, petting zoo-worthy animals. 

He nears the one nearest the cage door, the one who had led the pack earlier. It has a streak of blue painting the side of its face, and hungry amber eyes. Owen strokes its neck, glancing up as he nears. Caring for the animal, he seems gentler, kinder even. But there's still a twinge of distrust in his green eyes. "This is Blue. She's the beta of the group, and she won't hesitate to kill you if you don't show her respect." Owen says, stepping back to allow Zach a proper look. "That's Delta over there, Charlie and Echo on the far left." 

"They're velociraptors, right?" He asks. 

Owen pauses, looking down at his animals before glancing back at Zach, snorting ruefully. "You could say that. They're not historically accurate --- their genes were modified, but they're as close to true raptors as you'll ever see."

"They genetically modify the dinosaurs?" Zach echoes, his eyes wide. He'd heard rumors of a genetically modified dinosaur --- a hybrid of all kinds of dangerous --- being created in the theme park years ago. Then Henry Wu had been fired, and the rumors of an upcoming attraction had ceased altogether. But he hadn't cared at all when it happened, figured it was all speculation. Maybe not.

Owen gestures for him to follow. They make their way out of the cage, towards the main building. A black and silver quad, covering in a thin layer of caked mud, sits waiting outside, and Owen climbs on. When Zach doesn't move, standing awkwardly beside the motorbike, he rolls his eyes, shifting forward in the seat. "Unless you wanna walk back in the dark, kid, I suggest you get on." He points out, and Zach hesitates for a second longer before swinging himself onto the leather seat behind Owen. 

They don't talk the way there, racing through the forest without a word, and eventually the dirt track becomes soft sand. Owen flicks the engine off, waiting for Zach to climb off before he jumps off. The trees stop a good hundred meters from the shoreline, and the long expanse of sand is white-gold under the sun. A few small wooden cabins dot the shore, and half-hidden in the foliage, a grey building stretches across part of the treeline.

Owen leads him across the sand, following the fresh imprints of somebody's footsteps. "That building there is the bunk. Most of the trainers and handlers stay there, unless they've got their own cabin." He explains.

Zach nods, glancing up at him curiously. "Do you stay here?" He asks.

Owen raises an eyebrow at the question, but all he says is, "I've got my own place." 

Zach decides he's worthless on the whole _Q and A_ concept, settling for following the other man into the bunk. It's actually relatively big, with a well-lit --- if mildly cluttered --- lounge and a small kitchen to the left of the entrance. A few of the other employees hang about the place, but it's peacefully quiet. Owen shows him to the bedrooms, and before Zach has the chance to ask any more questions, he's disappearing back down the hallway. "You're up at seven tomorrow, we're running drills with the raptors. Don't be late." He yells over his shoulder, and then he's gone, the entrance door slamming shut behind him.

Zach swallows, looking around at the bare room before dumping his small backpack on the bed, kicking off his shoes. It's barely six in the afternoon, but he's exhausted, his entire body aching from falling from the bridge, and it wouldn't surprise him if he has a slight concussion. And it's not just being physically tired, either. The day has worn him down to a mess of frayed nerves and sore muscles, the anxiety of everything accumulating in one heavy, dreadful weight on his shoulders. He already regrets this.

Zach doesn't bother to get undressed, collapsing on top of the covers with a sigh. He's dead to the world, snoring only slightly, before the minute is up.

 

 

"Where's the new kid?" 

Owen glances up, raising an eyebrow. "Zach? Probably halfway home with his tail between his legs." He says with a shrug, filling the feeding bucket with frozen rats for the raptors. He feels a little guilty for being so quick to brush the trainee off, but he's seen too many teenagers pass through here expecting a pat on the back and the right to say they once trained dinosaurs on a summer break. It's those ones who are the reason incidents like the one yesterday occur in the first place. He doesn't want to be responsible for sending some eighteen year old's mutilated body home to their mother because he couldn't get there fast enough. No, Owen can't go through something like that, not now.

"What's going on with you, brother?" Barry says, the words cutting through his broodiness. Owen blinks, shaking the dark thoughts from his mind, and smiles wryly. 

"Just tired." He says, brushing the concern off as he stands. 

Barry snorts, but knows not to argue. They've worked together for near on half a decade now, and they're both just as stubborn as each other. It was hard to find a balance at first, but they're closer because of it, so Owen can't complain. 

They make their way to the now-repaired bridge, and the events of yesterday flash through his head once more --- maybe he should've checked on the kid before he just left him at the bunk, what if he has some sort of internal bleeding, or brain damage, or --- 

"Owen. Focus, man." Barry prompts, and Owen blinks, realizing the raptors have lost interest in him. Delta nips at Echo's tail, and the action nearly escalates before Owen clicks them back into focus. 

They settle back into routine, and the drill is nearly done when they hear footsteps clanging up the stairs. Owen's eyebrows push together, just as Zach appears at the top of the staircase. He hesitates at the edge of the bridge, and Owen visibly sees him swallow nervously, as though he's remembering yesterday. It strikes him, suddenly, how brave the kid might actually be. To nearly be eaten by the raptors, then agreeing to try handle them. Not everyone would've even bothered to show up again.

Yeah, maybe Owen's a bit of an asshole. Shit.

Barry looks like he wants to question the tired brunet, but Owen exchanges a meaningful look with his friend, and the man backs away again, frowning.

It's clear Zach got dressed in under three minutes; his shirt buttoned unevenly, zipper half-done --- not that Owen was looking there --- and his brown hair so unbelievably mussed up that it's actually kind of adorable. Owen shoves that thought right the fuck out of his head, and waits for Zach to make his way over.

"So sleeping beauty finally decided to grace us with his presence." He quips, but obviously it's the wrong thing to say. The boy's brown eyes are circled with shadows, and he ducks his head to avoid Owen's gaze. Owen feels another twinge of guilty regret, but there's nothing to be done about yesterday. "Your fly's undone, by the way, kid."

Zach flushes, the tips of his ears going pink, and he zips his jeans up the rest of the way, shuffling over. "Slept in." He mumbles, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. "Sorry, I know you said ---"

Owen waves his hand in dismissal. "Forget what I said, kid. You showed up, at least." He says, and Zach finally looks up, his brown eyes wide in confusion, as though he's unsure of what Owen's got planned for him. Truthfully, it's nothing terribly fun, but Owen needs to get a feel for how Zach works to know how to mentor him. 

He helps him through the motions, showing the younger man how to get the raptors' attention and guide them through the drill. But the moment he hands control over to Zach, the raptors turn away. Blue watches Owen, standing apart from her squabbling sisters, but pays Zach no attention. She could care less for his demands, not even when he tries to bribe them with rats. Delta and Charlie nip at Echo's sides, and with every growing second, Zach grows more and more frustrated. It shows on his face, and in his body language. The tight set of his shoulders, the hopelessness in his movements when he tries to move the raptors towards the other side of the enclosure.

"They're not listening to me, Owen." The boy sighs eventually, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm not cut out for this."

Owen studies him for a quiet moment, opening his mouth to reply, just as a screech echoes through the enclosure. He darts into the middle of the bridge, just in time to see Delta slash out at the runt of the pack, drawing blood in thick lines down Echo's side. He swears, yelling to get the raptors' under control, and they fall back into place after a few seconds. They move the other raptors back into the main enclosure, but Echo is herded into the containment cell, and Owen doesn't forget how Zach's face falls when he realizes the raptor is injured.

They make their way down to where Echo is already contained, and Barry hands him the medical kit, his face drawn pensively. He can hear Zach trailing behind him, but the younger man says nothing, even when they reach the raptor. It's not as bad as it looked before, once he cleans the blood off her neck --- more of a scratch. But Zach still looks distraught, and while Owen towels the raptor's neck dry, the other boy rifles through the kit, pulling out antiseptic.

"Is she alright?" Zach asks, finally speaking, and Owen glances at him with a dry smile.

"She's had worse from those two." He says, handing a cloth over to Zach. The boy takes over with surprising ease, cleaning the wound like he's had to deal with more than a few cuts and scrapes before. "You've got a steady hand there." He comments.

Zach's hand stills, before he continues. "My little brother, Gray… he used to get bullied a lot at school. Scraped knees are a little different to raptor wounds though." He jokes, his voice a little less heavy than it was a few minutes ago. "I'm really sorry. I tried to ---"

"Don't apologize, Zach. You're still learning, and the raptors are wild animals. They get out of control sometimes." Owen reassures. The brunet looks up in surprise, his brown eyes filled with a mixture of emotions, most of them indiscernible, before he turns back to Echo. 

"Yeah, well… you won't have to worry about me screwing up again. I'll tell Barry I'm quitting, you don't need to waste anymore time on me." Zach mumbles, his hands shaking slightly where they stroke the raptor's silver-grey neck.

Owen blinks in surprise, speechless for a moment. "You're not quitting." He says, more of a statement than anything else, and Zach snorts.

"Don't act like you want me around here." The teenager says, and yeah --- there's the guilt, damn it. Owen hesitates, mentally cursing his own stupidity before reaching out to grasp the younger man's shoulder. Zach looks at him, his expression guarded, and Owen hates that he has himself to blame for that. 

"Hey, I'm sorry if I acted like an ass. I just had to make sure you weren't just another cocky teenager who'd up and leave us at the end of the summer. My raptors… they need somebody who respects them for what they are." Owen explains, and Zach turns to face him fully, his gaze questioning. "I thought you might be one of those kids. And you proved me wrong." 

Zach's gaze flicks back to Echo once more, hesitant, before he looks back Owen, the ghost of a smile turning the corner of his lips up. Owen lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding.

"You're not half bad, kid." Owen admits, a little rueful, and the reluctant smile on the boy's face turns into an outright grin. That alone fucks Owen up in about ten different ways, but he doesn't mind as much as he wishes he would. 

"Thanks, I think." Zach says, his brown eyes brighter than they'd been this morning. "And I'm not a kid, you know. I turned eighteen a few months ago."

Owen bumps his shoulder gently, a playful grin on his own face, and looks down at the medical kit, busying himself with packing away the contents. It's strange, he thinks, how easy it feels to let his guard down around Zach already. Owen's rough, brash. Crude. It's a remnant of his time in the navy, climbing the ranks until he was the one giving orders, having to fight to keep himself steady. Not many stick around long when they find out what he's like --- not half of his high school friends, not Claire. His brother had put up with his bullshit --- once, then never again. 

There's a hand on his forearm, and Owen blinks, startled out of his daze. Zach looks at him wordlessly, an unspoken question in his eyes, and Owen forcefully shoves the dark thoughts back, smiling. "How's a celebratory barbecue sound?" He suggests.

Zach frowns, confused. "Celebrating what?" He asks.

"Hell if I know. Not quitting? Not getting eaten by a carnivorous dinosaur?" He says, shrugging as he stands, offering a hand to Zach. "Take your pick. I just want a reason to get drunk and eat real food for once."

Zach's mouth quirks into a half-smile, one that Owen is already beginning to crave, and he nods. Owen hauls the other boy to his feet, patting Echo once before making his way to the exit. They head back to the bunk as the sun is beginning to set, and Owen fires up the grill. The smell of smoke and marinated steak draws the other trainers out onto the sand, and soon enough, they've got a gathering worth a party.

The waves crash and fall against the shore, the water a deep blue, and Owen's eyes drift to the silhouetted figure walking up the beach. It's Zach, his jeans rolled up past his ankles, a distant smile on his face. He stops beside Owen, their shoulders brushing, and takes up a set of tongs without a word. 

"You like the sea?" Owen asks, smiling.

"It reminds me of home." Zach says, and Owen's heart threatens to split in two. He remembers that feeling; that deep, ingrained need to be surrounded by the sound of the ocean and the smell of seawater. The rise and fall of the waves moving in time to the beat of his heart. He'd forgotten it, somewhere around the time he'd forgotten what it was like to go to sleep without a bottle of whiskey in his hands… but he can remember it now. It reminds him of home, and that's something he hasn't felt in years.

They eat later, under the last, fading glow of the sunset, and the realization only strikes Owen as they're cleaning up, laughing about something stupid and passing a bottle of cider between each others' lips; of how much he'd missed the feeling of being at home.

 


	2. Lifeline

Zach dreams of sailboats, of all things, that night.

He jolts awake, his small room in the bunk still pitch-black, and looks blindly up at the ceiling. His body still sways, as though he's still floating gently over waves and not laying in bed. It's with a dull realization some twenty seconds later that he notes the firm hands shaking his shoulders --- and that, hold the fucking phone, he _is_ actually moving.

"Zach, if you don't wake up in the next two minutes, I _can_ and _will_ dump a bucket of water on you."

He scrambles into a sitting position, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust to the low light, and his forehead knocks against something --- _someone_ above him. "Jesus, Owen!" He yelps, rubbing his forehead with a wince. He leans over the mattress, reaching for his phone where it lays on the bedside table, and squints as the phone screen flares to life. "Why the hell am I awake at fucking _five in the morning?"_

It's just light enough to make out Owen's smirk in the darkness. "You'll see. Now get up. I ain't got all morning." He says, patting Zach's leg before standing up, making his way to the door. He pauses in the doorframe, turning to glance back at the half-awake eighteen year old. "And maybe comb your hair or something. No offense, but it looks like something curled up and died in it." 

Zach flushes angrily, reaching up to smooth his hair down, but it doesn't take a mirror to know that the devastation has surpassed anything finger-combing can save. Still, he makes it out the door in under five minutes and stumbles into the bunk's main room, bleary-eyed. The smell of coffee perks him up just a little, and Owen looks up at him as he shuffles over, smiling as he wordlessly hands over a travel mug of steaming coffee. 

"So why am I awake?" He asks over the metal rim, raising an eyebrow.

Owen motions for him to follow, and he sighs, trailing after the older man. They make their way outside, and for a moment Zach thinks maybe he's being punished, that he's going to be thrown in the raptor cage. But they pass the quad bike, heading towards the treeline. It's still dark, the horizon a deep purple, and they're the only ones awake on the beach. Zach frowns, hurrying across the soft sand to catch up with his mentor. As they near the forests, he can just barely make out a break in the trees. It's the faintest outline of a dirt track, too narrow for a quad or a car to travel up.

He isn't sure how long they walk for --- and quite frankly, he's still pretty certain he's being taken up here to get brutally murdered. His muscles are beginning to ache the further up the track they get, and he nearly slips over twice on the muddy slope, but they finally reach the top. At first, Zach isn't sure why they're here.

They stand on the edge of a cliff, the waves crashing against the rocks below them, and all Zach can see for miles is ocean --- miles and miles of deep blue. The breeze smells of seawater and pine, cool against his skin, and he figures that if Owen _is_ planning on murdering him, this would be an okay place to die.

Then the sky lights up, and suddenly, Zach knows. 

If he'd thought he'd seen a real sunrise before now, he'd been terribly, terribly wrong. This is something else; watching the first pale rays of sunlight peak over the horizon line, painting the world in shades of gold, the ocean a pale, open blue. Beneath them, the forest awakens. The crest of the waves shimmer as they fold over the shore, washing away their footprints as the tide comes in. 

"Oh," is all Zach can say.

"It's the best view on the entire island. Not many people find this place." Owen says, his voice light and open in a way Zach's never heard before. "Figured you deserve to see it."

Zach glances up at him, surprised, and for one fleeting moment, finds himself caught in the pale green of Owen's eyes. The other man turns his head, as if he can sense the staring, and Zach's gaze snaps back to the sunrise, his cheeks heating up. They head back down the trail some ten minutes later, a comfortable silence lapsing over the pair, and the ride to the training center is quick. 

Barry is already in the raptor cage when they finally arrive, the velociraptors roaming about the enclosure in search of their morning feed. Zach's eyes settle on the smallest of the pack, and he breathes a sigh of relief. The scratch wounds on Echo's neck are already healing over, and the raptor's eyes are bright, eager.

"We're going to work on getting the raptors to respect you today." Owen says over his shoulder, bending down to stock the feed bucket.

Zach grimaces at the frozen rat bodies, wrinkling his nose. "That's going to go well." He sighs, remembering how spectacularly yesterday's session had gone.

"Respect takes time, kid. It takes trust." Owen reminds him, gesturing for him to follow. They make their way up the metal stairs. "Think of it from their perspective. Some stranger comes into their home and starts demanding them to listen, they're gonna tell you to piss off." Owen points out.

It makes sense, but Zach still can't bear the thought of one of the animals getting injured again because he couldn't control them. "So how do I get them to trust me?" He asks, watching as Blue circles the clearing underneath the bridge, her amber eyes locked on them. 

Owen shoots him a half-smile. "You've got to learn how they think, how they act. Forget for a second that you're their trainer and pretend you're in the pack." He explains, and he chuckles. "Think of it as a high school clique, and you're the new kid."

Zach grimaces. That's not really a comparison he wants to make, mostly because it feels all too real, and he shoves the memories of freshman year to the back of his mind. High school had never been a walk in the park for him; from the countless anxiety attacks in school corridors to the constant terror of slipping up about how he felt about guys. He hadn't felt an ounce of sadness walking out of those school gates for the last time.

"Well, that's comforting." He sighs, and Owen sends him a questioning glance, but he doesn't elaborate. "Alright, so I'm the classroom idiot and the raptors are the cool kids. How do I fit in?"

Owen grins, his eyes light with amusement. "You're getting the idea now. You want to try connect with each of them individually before you try ask something of the entire pack, or they'll realize they outnumber you." He says. "And then you'll just be the laughing stock of the pack."

Zach grimaces. "I already feel like that." He mutters, but the laugh it draws from the other trainer eases his bitterness.

Owen pats his shoulder, winking down at him. "You'll get the hang of it. I have faith."

 

 

The sun beats down on the unsheltered enclosure, and Owen wipes the beads of sweat forming on his brow. They've been working for about an hour and a half now, and so far, Zach's managed to direct Delta and Charlie through a few basic actions. But the younger boy's struggling to maintain their focus, and Owen knows how hard it can be to not get frustrated.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and glances to his side. 

"Look." Barry says, nodding towards the eastern side of the enclosure. Echo's standing still underneath the bridge, lifting her grey head to watch Zach. The brunet has his back turned, trying to regain Charlie's attention, but the smaller raptor doesn't look away from him. "She's been watching him since you two got out on the bridge."

Owen glances back up at Zach, and clears his throat. The boy pauses, looking over his shoulder. "Hey kid, why don't you have a go with Echo?" He suggests.  Zach frowns for a moment, confused, before he turns to face the other raptor. She shuffles backwards in the dust and huffs gently, her eyes unwavering. 

Zach looks up at Owen, his brown eyes wide and unsure, but Owen just nods in encouragement. The boy turns back to the raptor, and lifts his hand to signal her to follow. He starts walking across the bridge, his movements slow in his uncertainty, but Echo moves with him, padding across the clearing beneath him. 

"Huh." Owen breathes, raising an eyebrow. 

Barry nudges his shoulder. "Think it's because of yesterday?" He asks, glancing at his partner, and Owen shrugs. It'd be a plausible explanation --- Echo has always been the most withdrawn of the pack, being the youngest of the sisters. Had Owen not raised them in his hands, he's certain he'd have struggled to gain her trust. It'd taken Barry months to get her to do the simplest of drills.

And yet, here's Zach, leading her through a perimeter run as if she's a puppy on a leash. 

Honestly, Owen doesn't have a fucking clue what to think.

Zach's obviously trying to hide a grin when they finish up for the day, clearly pleased with his improvement after yesterday. There's a bounce in his step as he makes his way to the waiting quad, and Owen raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in a smile. 

Zach must notice the stare, because he ducks his head, a blush dusting his cheeks. "What?" He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Owen's smile grows, an unexpected burst of affection filling his chest. "You're just entertaining." He teases, shrugging, and the younger man sends him a half-hearted glare. 

"I liked you more when you were acting like an asshole." Zach says, climbing onto the back of the quad despite his words.

Owen snorts, starting the quad up. The engine sputters to life, humming loudly underneath the leather seat. They start off down the track, winding through the trees towards the park, and it takes Zach a few minutes to realize where they're heading.

"Wait, you passed the track for the bunk ---" He says, raising his voice to speak over the growl of the motorbike. 

"We're not going to the bunk." Owen calls back. The quad lurches over a ditch and Owen grins as Zach's arms automatically tighten into a death grip around his waist. They reach the park gates a few minutes later, and Owen stands to let Zach climb off, putting his quad into neutral. "Figured you should spend some time with your family." He explains.

Zach's eyes fall to the dirt at his feet, an unreadable look passing over his face. "As if." The boy quips, but there's no humor in his voice. Owen hesitates, unsure if he's hit a raw nerve, but then Zach plasters a quick smile on his face, raking his fingers through his windswept hair. "Thanks, Owen."

Owen winks. "No problem, kid. I'll send Barry to come get you tomorrow morning." He says, lifting his hand in a half-wave before he kicks the quad into gear, taking off in the direction of the bunk. The wind rushes past him, the trees becoming a blur of green, but when he glances back over his shoulder, Zach still stands in the clouds of dust, watching him go.

 

 

Never, in Zach's eighteen years on earth, would he have believed it was possible for a situation to be this fucking _awkward_. 

But then, up until recently, he'd have pissed himself laughing at the idea of him training velociraptors on a dinosaur theme park. Zach half-wishes that Owen was still acting like an almighty asshole to him. At least then, he'd be in the bunk right now and not situated awkwardly at a restaurant table between his exhausted aunt and a little brother who refuses to hold a conversation with him anymore.

The latter is sort of his fault, which makes it infinitely worse. Gray's a bloody genius, and his parents had been stupid to think he wouldn't notice the tension between them. And maybe Zach had been stupid for trying to lie to him about it, but it's okay to lie to people when they're scared, right? 

Claire's phone pings for the fourth time in the past ten minutes, and Zach watches his aunt struggle with the need to stay on top of her work. He feels grateful that she's at least _trying_ to bond with them, but Zach felt a stronger connection with the pet rock Gray made him when he was eight. He sighs, pushing steamed vegetables around his plate.

"So… you enjoying working at the park then, Zach?" Claire prompts, breaking the awkward silence that's stretched on since they ordered their food.

Zach shrugs. "It's okay. My mentor is a bit of a dick sometimes." He admits. It's not really true --- he likes Owen, probably more than he _should_ \--- but he needs to blow off steam and ranting about Owen's less than conventional teaching methods seems to do the trick.

Claire pauses. "Who are they? I can talk to them, if they're not ---" She begins, a twinge of concern in her voice.

Zach smiles, looking down at his plate as he shakes his head. "His name's Owen, and it's fine. It's just… a little stressful." He amends. When he looks up again, Claire's glowering at the tablecloth like it's the bane of her existence.

"I didn't realize you were working with Mr. Grady." Claire says, her voice clipped in that way it is when she's biting back any unprofessional snark.

Zach exchanges a look with Gray. "What's wrong with him?" He asks, wary. 

Claire plasters a smile on her face, though it doesn't reach her eyes, and brushes back a lock of her red hair. "What do you boys say to dessert?" She asks, switching subjects without a second's warning. 

They don't end up getting dessert, but they _do_ end up having a conversation longer than five minutes. Claire does her best to catch up on what she's missed --- which, given the seven years they hadn't talked, is pretty significant. Once Gray gets started talking about what he's been doing the past few days, it's hard to get him to stop. Zach rolls his eyes at the eagerness, but secretly, he's missed his little brother. It's been months since they really talked. Gray gave up on him a long time ago.

Claire takes them back to the hotel after dinner, and the second they say goodbye, it's like Gray switches off. He curls up on his bed with a book, turning his back to Zach. 

"You wanna watch a movie?" Zach ventures, chewing on his lip. Gray shakes his head, not looking up from the pages. Zach hesitates, before moving to sit down beside him, prodding him in the ribs. "Dude, come on. They've got Netflix here." He insists.

"I don't want to watch a movie, Zach." Gray mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to concentrate on the book. 

Zach swallows, a lump of guilt forming in his throat, and he stands up. "Fine, be a little bitch then." He snaps. 

"You shouldn't say bitch." Gray replies, more out of habit than anything else. "I just wish you'd stop treating me like I was five. I know about mum and dad, you can stop pretending now." He sighs.

Zach freezes beside the sliding door, his hands curling into fists to hide how much they're shaking. "I'm not pretending. Mum and dad are fine. They've been like this for years now." He replies, rolling his eyes in faked annoyance.

"Stop lying to me!" Gray snaps back, his voice rising, and Zach grits his teeth. He knows, deep down, that Gray isn't a little kid anymore. He'd handle the news that their parents are divorcing well enough --- probably better than Zach's handling it. But whenever he opens his mouth to spit the words out, something bitter and cold catches in his throat, the bated anger at his little brother building like a tidal wave inside him. 

He doesn't bother sticking around, grabbing his backpack and storming out the hotel room. It takes some convincing, but he manages to get one of the other workers to give him a ride back to the bunk. By the time they reach the sandy tracks leading to the bunk, it's nearly ten o'clock, the moon bleaching the sand to a silvery-white. The waves are rough tonight, crashing against the shore in huge, storming swells. The stars are nowhere to be seen, like someone had drawn a dark curtain over them, hiding them from view. 

Zach would've missed the shadowy figure sitting on the sand, feeling Owen's presence more than he sees him. He hesitates before slipping his sneakers off, padding barefoot down the beach. The sand is cool against his skin, and when he sits down beside Owen, the waves seem to draw away for one utterly quiet moment. 

The anger is gone now, pulling away like an ocean tempest, and there's nothing but the sting of saltwater and bitterness in his lungs. He wants to bury himself in the sand, but he settles for reaching up to his neck, his fingers grasping the cord of his amulet, and rips it from his throat. It's a wooden carving of an anchor, the edges rough and uneven, the cord frayed from years of wear. He still remembers Gray begging him to close his eyes, placing the creation in his hand and curling his fist around it, like it was the most precious thing Gray could ever give him, and how proud the eight year old had been --- how proud _Zach_ had been. His dad had helped Gray make it, and it's the last real _family_ moment he can remember having. Before everything had gone to shit.

Now, Zach weighs the small wooden anchor in his hand, swallowing back the shame, the resentment drowning him like seawater. He stands up, and casts the amulet as far as he can throw it, watching it sink into the ocean. He can feel Owen's gaze burning into him, but he doesn't say a word. Zach turns on his heel and stumbling back up the beach, his mind empty and the skin between his collarbones, where the anchor had once rested, sickeningly hollow.

 

 

"Zach, you're all over the place. _Focus!_ They won't respond to you if you act like you've got a stick shoved up your ---" 

"Shut the fuck up, Owen."

Owen straightens up, a hot flash of annoyance passing through his veins before he quashes it. Zach's been a hot mess since they started an hour ago, and the raptors can sense it. They won't follow someone who looks like they're two wrong words away from a mental breakdown. Blue isn't even _in_ the clearing, instead roaming about the foliage for scraps, and while the others are in position, they don't pay Zach any attention, nipping at each other and scratching at the dirt.

"Get off the bridge, kid." Owen says suddenly, folding his arms across his chest, and Zach shoots him a dark look as he passes. _So much for the bonding time the other day_ , Owen thinks, sighing. He leads the younger man down the stairs, not turning to look at him until they're around the corner, out of view. Finally, Owen spins, facing Zach with a frown. "What's gotten into you?" He asks.

Zach drops his gaze, kicking the gravel with a glint of frustration in his brown eyes. "Nothing." He says. Stubbornness laces the words, and Owen lets out an exasperated sigh.

"Grow up, kid, and tell me what the hell is wrong. You've been acting weird since you got back last night." He pushes.

The brunet leans against the concrete wall, shoving his hands in his pockets, and bites his lower lip. Owen's eyes catch the movement, inexplicably, and he drags his eyes away from the boy's mouth, blinking. "My little brother and I have been fighting, that's it." He says, shrugging. But the dark look in his eyes doesn't match the nonchalance in his voice, and Owen frowns, not answering until Zach finally breaks. "My parents are getting a divorce and Gray keeps asking questions about it." He admits. "I guess I just got sick of it."

Owen's chest tightens, a wave of regret resurfacing inside of him, and he has to stop himself, breathing through memories he'd long since pushed away. "You shouldn't be hard on him. He's thirteen, Zach. He's scared, he just needs someone to look up to." He says, his voice softer now. 

Zach rolls his eyes, anger flashing in his gaze. "Yeah, well… I need someone to look up to as well, and I'm not getting any help, so he can deal." He mutters.

Owen pauses. "You know… if you need help ---" He begins, reaching out to lay a hand on Zach's arm, but the boy slaps his arm away, glaring at him as he shoves past. 

"You don't even fucking know me, Owen. You can't help shit." He snaps, disappearing around the corner before Owen can even react. He sighs, deflating, and leans against the wall with a dejected thump, casting his eyes to the grey sky. He hates how much the words sting, how they dredge up memories he's spent years reminding himself to _forget_ , and the ache in his chest because he knows; Zach is right. He can't help, no matter how hard he tries, and that's always been his problem.

 

 

Echo strains against her metal headgear, snapping her jaws as wide as the restraints will allow. The other raptors are hungry, but not nearly as unsettled at the youngest of their pack.

Zach sighs, shrugging his hoodie off as he makes his way to her side. He crouches in front of her, sighing. "What's up, girl?" He asks, reaching out to stroke the raptor's neck. She flinches at the touch, and he pauses, hand hovering patiently. After a moment, she pressed towards him, her wary eyes softening. "Sorry." He murmurs. "I got worked up earlier."

The raptor whickers in response, huffing a hot breath into his face, and he smiles tiredly. The frustration drained away the moment he'd yelled at Owen, and now, he just feels lost. He wants to find the raptor trainer and apologize, to spill just how stressed all of this is making him, to take Owen up on his offer. And, worst of all, he misses home.

The other workers leave at sundown, and Zach hears the quad bike's engine start up outside the enclosure. He doesn't move, listening to the engine's hum, waiting for it to take off. It doesn't --- not for another few minutes, and Zach is about to look up to see if Owen will wait for him any longer, but then it revs and spins across the gravel, fading into the trees. 

He barely notices himself dozing off, sitting in the corner of the cage with his head against the wall. One moment he's watching the raptors roam around the enclosure, shadows stretching out across the dusty clearing, and the next, he's jolting awake. The sun is just beginning its ascent, crawling up over the horizon, and the only other light in the training center is a yellow beam coming from the storage room, the only indication that somebody else is around. He sits up, wincing as his joints crack, stiff from sleeping against the wall all night. There's an old grey blanket draped over him. Zach frowns, glancing up in confusion --- just as the cage door slides open. 

Owen's blond hair is tousled, sticking up at odd angles, and Zach imagines he looks the same --- though he probably doesn't pull the _just-woke-up_ look nearly as well as the older man. Which brings his next question to mind: why the hell is Owen here so early?

"Sleep okay?" The man asks, passing him to dig through the toolbox in the corner. 

Zach stares at him for a moment, the question not quite registering in his sleep-fuddled brain, before he scrambles to his feet, flushing. "Fine. Why are you here?" He asks, frowning as he picks the blanket up off the ground.

Owen raises an eyebrow, glancing at him. "I work here." He replies. Zach's face must give away his annoyance, because he chuckles wryly. "Couldn't sleep last night." He admits.

Zach hopes it isn't because of what he'd said yesterday, his chest aching painfully. Still, by the time Barry arrives, an hour later, they're already stuck into work. Maybe it's because he'd spent the night in the cage, or maybe he's just more relaxed, but the raptors don't give him any trouble today, co-operating with him throughout the entire drill, and by the time the day is up, Zach feels a little better.

They head back early, but before Zach can even think about heading to the bunk, a hand grasps his forearm. He looks up, meeting Owen's gaze in confusion. "What?" He asks, wary.

"Let's go for a walk." Owen says, his voice casual, but Zach is beginning to recognize the careful look in his eyes, the one that says _we need to talk_ , and _I'm worried about you_. He frowns, but follows the other handler down the tracks toward the shoreline, letting his feet sink into the soft sand as they make their way down to the water. 

They've been walking for five minutes, the sound of the waves breaking over the sand filling the silence, before Owen finally draws to a halt beside an old driftwood log. He sits down, leaning against the wood, and Zach joins him. "Talk to me." Owen says, finally breaking their silence.

Zach looks at him. First in surprise, then wariness. "About what?" He asks, hesitant.

Owen meets his gaze evenly. "About whatever you need to talk about." He says simply, and it's with a jolt that Zach realizes he trusts Owen. So he talks.

It's hard to find a place to start, at first, but Owen just reassures him --- _the beginning is as good a place as any_ \--- and then it's hard to _stop_. He tells Owen of how he'd grown up around the ocean; living every moment he could surrounded by sand and sea, and of how his parents had taken him sailing since before he could remember. He tells Owen about how he'd had a best friend called Ethan, a blond boy who he'd known since he could walk, and how they'd spent hours playing in the dunes behind his family's house. He tells Owen that when he was eleven and kissed a girl for the first time, something hadn't felt quite right about it, and Owen doesn't even flinch when he tells him that he'd kissed Ethan that same day and cried himself to sleep. 

Zach tells him of how Gray had been born, and his parents stopped taking him on long sailing trips, the entire family anchored to the house as his little brother grew up. Then his dad had sold the sailboat, trading it for the money to enroll the prodigal Gray into a prestigious private school. Zach had been cast aside, known only as _Gray's older brother_. And really, he hadn't minded all that much. He liked being the one Gray ran to, liked being the older brother that Gray looked up to when he was scared, or hurt. 

They'd moved away from the sea then, and that's when his parents had started fighting, the family falling apart, and it just seemed that everyone had forgotten that _Zach_ needed somebody to turn to. Owen doesn't interrupt, not once, and they're both silent for a long time once he finishes. 

"You're a good kid, Zach." He says eventually.

Zach snorts, raking his hands through the fine sand. "You think I'm pathetic." He replies.

"I think you're brave." Owen cuts in, gentle. "And I think you're smart --- smarter than you think you are. But I also think you need to talk to your brother. It's not his fault your parents are fighting." 

Zach sighs, dropping his head against the driftwood. "I know, I know." He murmurs, taking in a deep breath before he stands. "Come on, that's enough _touchy-feely_ shit for the day." 

Owen looks up at him in amusement, and Zach's heart flips at the affection in his green eyes. "Where are you going?" He asks.

"Dude, it's hot as. We're going swimming." He says.

Owen glances at the ocean, and Zach sees just the faintest glimpse of something flicker across his face. "It's rough out there, Zach." He warns, frowning. "I wouldn't if I were you."

Zach looks over his shoulder at the miles of calm blue, snorting. "Seriously? Come on, ten minutes."

Owen's lips press into a thin line. "Zach ---" 

"Weren't you in the navy for like six years?" Zach teases, incredulous. "You can't seriously be afraid of water."

Owen pushes himself to his feet, rolling his eyes dryly. "I'm not. I just don't feel like explaining to the others why we went swimming alone during a sunset, kid." He says, patting Zach on the shoulder as he passes him, making his way towards the bunk. Zach feels his face flush at the _definitely-not-okay_ imagery that produces, and he has to scramble to catch up with the other man.

The smell of spice and smoke fills the bunk as they step inside. Zach inhales the warm aroma, his mouth watering. Barry stands in the kitchen, frying something. He glances up as they enter, smiling. "Just in time." He remarks. Zach sees Owen smile out of the corner of his eye.

"Got caught up cleaning the cage." Owen lies easily. Zach bumps his shoulder against Owen's, shooting him a grateful look when the other man glances at him. He doesn't need the other trainers knowing about his family troubles.

Barry dishes up, falling straight into conversation. Owen and Zach sit beside each other on the couch while they eat, their shoulders and sides brushing despite the space on either side of them. He's only just noticed it now; the need to be near Owen, like the ocean's pull, how effortless and natural it feels to gravitate towards the man. Zach figures it's just himself being sentimental. He hasn't told many people --- or anyone, actually --- about what's been running through his mind lately. Talking about it had helped --- to an extent. It'd also created a whole lot of feelings that Zach really isn't prepared to deal with right now. Owen Grady feels like a safety net and a storm all at once. 

After dinner, Owen makes his way to the door, shrugging his vest back on. Zach watches him, raising an eyebrow.

"Aren't you staying?" Zach asks, confused. He still doesn't know where Owen goes when he's not at the raptor enclosure, but he'd thought he would at least stick around for another hour. 

Owen glances at him. His green eyes are distant, clouded. "Just going for a walk." He replies, slipping out of the door and into the night. Zach hesitates, hanging around the kitchen for a few more minutes, before he finally breaks. He grabs his hoodie as he takes off out the door. It's dark outside, and colder than it's been since Zach got here. He can just barely make out Owen's footprints in the sand, heading towards the track. He frowns, following them. 

The quad is still parked under the trees, but Owen's tracks disappear down the path, leading towards the training center. Zach hesitates. He knows it's a little weird of him, but he wants to talk to Owen again, and the bunk is hardly private. So he starts down the trail, shivering slightly under his thin hoodie. 

All of the lights are off in the training center, aside from the dim cage light, and Zach squints. He can see shadows moving in the yellow light. Zach approaches, about to make his presence known, before a voice stops him in his tracks. 

It's Owen, murmuring gently to someone he can't see. "I miss him, you know." He sighs. "I've tried not to think about him since --- since I left the navy. But then that damn kid showed up." 

Owen laughs softly at himself. "I can't stop thinking about him --- about either of them."

There's a familiar chirp in response. He's talking to Blue, Zach realizes with a start. That's when he knows he's overstepped his boundaries. He backs away from the corner, meaning to head back to the bunk and give Owen his privacy --- but then he's crashing backwards into something, yelping as he stumbles over his own feet.

Zach looks up, meeting the gaze of a large man with wispy grey hair. His heart thumps frantically in his chest, and he straightens up, taking an involuntary step back. 

"I --- uh. I ---" He stammers.

The cage door slides open behind him, and Zach spins, just as Owen steps out. There's a suspicious glint in his eyes, one that sends a shiver down Zach's spine. "Hoskins." Owen says, moving to stand in front of Zach. 

"Owen." The stranger says cheerily. "Shouldn't you be back by now?"

Zach peers around Owen, confused. "I could ask you the same." Owen replies evenly, but Zach can hear the underlying threat in his voice. And frankly, it's kind of hot --- in a weird, dominating way that Zach can't decide if he likes. _And so not the fucking point right now,_ Zach reminds himself, snapping back to attention.

"Just needed to grab something from the storage room." Hoskins says, glancing over Owen's shoulder at Zach. "This the raptors' new chew toy?" He jokes, a wide grin on his face.

Zach's jaw clenches, biting back a snarky response. "This is the new handler." Owen corrects, his tone sharp, and he steps aside to introduce them. "Hoskins, this is Zach. Zach, this is the head of the island's security force."

Zach shakes the man's hand, wary.

"Aren't you a bit young to be a handler?" Hoskins asks, a condescending smirk forming underneath his grin.

Zach rips his hand away, glaring at the man. "Aren't you a bit old to be in the security force?" He bites back, haughty. Owen makes a choked noise, like he's holding back a snort, and Hoskins' grin falls away. He turns back to Owen, ignoring Zach as he says his goodbyes and heads towards a car that's parked beside the track.

Owen and Zach watch him drive off, and it's only when the sound of the car to fades into the background that Owen finally turns to face him. "You followed me." He states, and the lack of anger in his voice scares Zach more than if he'd been obviously mad.

"I wanted to talk to you. I didn't mean to…" He trails off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Hey, I'm… uh… I'm sorry if I brought up any bad memories." 

Owen's gaze softens, and he leans back against the wall, looking down at the dirt. "No, that's… I'm not sure how much you heard back then, but Zach, that's not your fault." He says, shaking his head.

Zach hesitates, unsure of what to say. For a minute, it seems like they're done talking, that Owen's going to stay closed off to him, untouchable. He shuffles uncertainly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gets ready to leave ---

"When I was seventeen, my younger brother and I fought a lot. I loved him --- I loved him a lot. But we just had our differences, and our parents used to fight too. I guess it kind of rubbed off on us." Owen says, shrugging. Zach doesn't dare speak, for fear he might change his mind about opening up to him. "One day, we were out on the pier and we got into an argument. I said some things that I shouldn't have, and he tried to leave ---" Owen breaks off, his throat working visibly, and Zach's heart aches for him.

"He slipped and fell into the water. And I couldn't get to him in time."

Zach's mouth falls open, and he watches as Owen wipes a hand over his face, his expression so lost that Zach's heart breaks for him. "Oh god, Owen…" He murmurs, shocked.

"I hated being around the ocean after that. I guess I joined the navy to try face my fears, but I ended up leaving when I turned twenty-three and came here. I've tried not to think about him, about my family, since then." Owen exhales, leaning his head back to look up to the stars.

Zach thinks of how he'd teased Owen earlier for not wanting to swim, how he'd brought up his own stupid family problems, and immediately wants to hit himself in the fucking face. He's such an _idiot_.

"Owen, I'm so sorry." He says. 

Owen looks up at him, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, and shrugs. "It happened eight years ago." He says, waving off Zach's concern. "I'm over it mostly."

Zach isn't convinced, but he isn't going to push him either. They make their way towards the track, having said goodnight to the raptors, but Owen pauses before they leave. His eyebrows are pushed together, a look of confusion chasing away the sadness in his expression. "When you got here, did you see the storage room's light on?" He asks.

Zach blinks. "Uh… no? The only light on was the one in the cage. Why?" He asks, puzzled by the sudden change of subject. That's when it hits him --- what Hoskins had said earlier. Owen doubles back, jogging towards the training center. Zach runs to catch up with him, bewildered, but the other man doesn't explain. They make their way into the storage room and through a door that Zach hadn't even known existed up until now. It leads into a small, closed off room, with a computer in the corner and several smaller screens lining one wall. 

Owen flicks the computer on, typing in a string of words that Zach doesn't quite catch, and brings up a folder full of video files. "The security tapes." He says in explanation, clicking on one that reads yesterday's date. He quickly skims through the video, stopping a few hours after the handlers had all left. Zach peers closer, watching the feed of the raptors' enclosure. Nothing particularly interesting happens --- until the eleven o'clock mark. A dark figure moves along the outskirts of the video frame, and Zach squints. Finally, the person moves closer towards the enclosure. Zach can just barely make out Hoskins in the low light. 

"What's he doing?" He asks.

Owen stays silent, but an answer comes soon enough. The man stops in front of the containment gates, the camera too fuzzy to catch his exact movements. Zach frowns, trying to remember if he'd seen Hoskins around the night before. That's when a beam of light cuts through the training center, the quad pulling up, and for one fleeting moment, the motorbike's lights show a glimpse of what he's doing. Then Hoskins takes off, disappearing. The rest of the footage is relatively normal; Owen carrying a blanket towards the cage --- Zach remembers why in an instant --- and later, them getting the raptors ready for the day. Hoskins doesn't make another appearance that night, but a few glances at the past week's footage shows similar occurrences. All around the same time, all Hoskins lurking around the enclosure after dark.

Owen leans back, turning the computer off. They remain silent for a few minutes, mulling over what they've just seen. 

"This isn't good, is it?" Zach asks, breaking the silence that's fallen over them.

Owen meets his gaze, and for the first time, Zach sees the man's calm resolve truly slipping away, just an inkling of fear darkening his eyes. When he replies, his voice is strained, and Zach's heart thunders. "No, it's not, kid."


	3. Calm

Owen doesn't sleep that night.

He tosses and turns for hours, the thin sheets tangling around his legs until finally, he gives up. He isn't sure what's unsettled him more: Hoskins' antics, and the thought of his raptors --- his _girls_ being in danger. 

Or the way Zach had looked at him that night; the way it'd sent warmth traveling down his spine, settling in his bones like burning embers.

Either way, Owen stands on the cliff top until the sun begins its slow ascent. He doesn't wait for Zach, instead driving the quad straight to the training center. Barry is already there --- Owen had called him last night to let him know what they'd seen. The frenchman looks stressed, his shoulders set in a tense line, lips pressed together firmly.

"Barry." Owen calls in greeting.

His co-worker looks up, setting down the feed bucket. "Where's your protege, then?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Left him at the bunk, figured he deserved the day off." Owen says, shrugging. He slides his knife sheath onto his belt, readjusting his vest as he follows Barry up the steps to the bridge. The raptors are chittering nervously, huddling together under the bridge, and Owen's skin prickles. 

"He'll want to help." Barry reminds him, and Owen sighs. ''He's a good kid, he cares for the raptors."

"I don't want him getting in the way."

Barry lets out a single barking laugh, fixing him with a knowing look as they make their way down the stairs. "You don't want him getting hurt. He's not a child, Owen, he can handle himself." He reminds him. 

Owen drops his gaze, shaking his head. "I know that." He replies. "He's just ---"

He doesn't get a chance to finish the sentence. The gate grinds open, and Owen turns, jolting out of his thoughts. It's Zach, and the stress is evident in the boy's face. There's dark circles ringed underneath his eyes, his hair a tangled mess of untamed cowlicks and scruff that makes Owen almost certain that he hasn't slept a wink.

The younger trainer makes his way over, his eyes fixed on Owen's with an unnerving glint. "Why'd you leave without me?" He asks. Barry takes his cue --- bless the man --- and turns on his heel, muttering under his breath as he makes his way back up to the bridge.

Owen shrugs, turning away to pack away his tools. "You looked tired last night. I thought you'd want the day off." He explains, toying with the latch on his toolbox. He isn't avoiding Zach --- not entirely, but he can't meet his eyes, can't think of him in quite the same way. And for the life of him, he can't quite put his finger on _why_.

Zach steps back, an affronted look crossing over his face. "Seriously?After what we saw on the security ta---" 

Owen holds up a finger as he shushes the boy, glancing over his shoulder warily. "Keep your voice down, dipstick." He hisses. Zach's jaw tightens, but the tension in his body drains away, only the slightest twinge of annoyance in his gaze. Owen feels a little guilty for being patronizing, but the last thing he needs is for Hoskins and God knows who else to find out they've seen what they're up to. "Look, go spend the day with your brother or some shit. Barry and I have work to do." He sighs.

Zach doesn't move, storms building in his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, Owen thinks he might argue. But then the boy mutters something under his breath, spinning on his heel and shoving past Barry as he leaves.

Owen slumps against the metal cage wall, sighing tiredly, and wipes a hand over his face. 

"That was unnecessary, you know." Barry points out, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

Owen doesn't reply.

 

 

Zach is really, really sick of being treated like a kid. He's eighteen, not eight, and while he's far from a _mature adult_ , he likes to think he's at least capable enough to keep a secret when need be. But then --- to Owen, he probably _is_ just a kid.

His entire body aches to be back at the raptor enclosure --- something that startles him when he realizes; has he really grown _that_ attached to the raptors already? Still, he might as well make the most of a day off. 

They haven't spoken a word to each other since their last argument, but Gray has always been too gentle to hold a grudge, and when Zach knocks on the hotel door with the offer to visit some attractions, the thirteen year old barely hesitates for a second.

"So what's it like?" Gray asks, once they've left the petting zoo. 

Zach glances at him. They've been quiet mostly; half-assed attempts at conversation dying on the tongue, but he appreciates the fact that Gray's trying. It's more than he deserves after all the crap he's given his younger brother.

"Training the raptors?" He begins, raising an eyebrow. "It's… it's alright. They're cool, I guess." He says, shrugging. It's a colossal fucking understatement, but he doesn't quite know how to say that he prefers a pack of genetically-engineered carnivorous dinosaurs that he met a week ago over the vast majority of human-kind. "What's it like having a nanny watching you constantly?" He asks.

Gray groans, and for a second, Zach can't help but feel like nothing's changed between them, like they haven't been growing more and more distant, parting like waves from a shore. Then reality doubles back like a slap to the face, and he hopes Gray doesn't notice how he flinches. "Don't even get me started --- she's almost as bad as mum and dad."

Zach presses his mouth shut, biting back the defensive words that spring to his lips. He doesn't want to argue, not now, and it might have something to do with the fact that whenever he thinks about how horribly petty he's been for the past few months now, all he can see is the pain in Owen's eyes --- somebody who never had the chance to make things right. 

Zach has that chance.  

"That sucks." He says eventually, and Gray sends him a surprised look, like he'd expected a biting reply. Zach's stomach twists in a knot, a bitter taste in the back of his throat at the words. He's spent so many years blaming Gray for their parents' fighting, and the habit is ingrained into him, rooted deep into his bones.

The conversation dies after that, but the silence isn't as awkward as before. The tyrannosaurus enclosure is second on the list, and Gray's eyes grow wide when he sees which direction they're heading. Zach smiles dryly. When he'd first come to the park, he'd figured the only dinosaur worth seeing would be Rexy. The rest seemed inequivalent --- _unworthy_ of his time. Funny how quickly things could change.

The viewing platform is crowded, and Zach finds himself gripping onto the back of Gray's shirt, until they've reached a clearer part of the window separating them. Gray cries out with the rest when the tyrannosaurus lumbers into view, her old age making her weary, but there's no hesitation when she lunges for the goat tied to a feeding post outside. Her eyes flicker upward, fixing onto the hollow tree trunk in which the viewing platform hides, quietly observing as she eats.

Zach turns away then, wondering if the raptors would ever take a chunk out of him given a second opportunity. They'd spared him once --- he doubts he'll be lucky the next time.   

The crowd swells as a sudden influx of families pour in, herding the brothers away from the glass. Zach laughs at Gray's frustrated look. "I'd lift you up, but you're a bit heavy for that now." He teases. Gray rolls his eyes in response, but it's lighthearted, and the heavy guilt weighing on Zach's chest eases a little.

The sun is sinking below the horizon when they finally head back to the hotel. Zach's legs ache from having to keep up with his younger brother, and when the elevator doors shut, he collapses against the wall, exhaling tiredly. 

Gray watches him with an amused smile. "You okay there, grandpa?" He teases.

"Don't test me, squirt. I'll throw you into the raptor cage." Zach warns.

Gray snorts, leaning against the wall across from him. "Mum and dad will have your neck if you do." He replies, and Zach chuckles. Gray's eyes gleam, as though it's a great accomplishment that he's made his brother laugh, but then his gaze drops to Zach's neck --- and just like that, his smile falls away. "You're not wearing your amulet."

Zach reaches up to feel his throat, but even as he does so, his heart jumps sickeningly. The memory of the waves crashing against the beach, the rough little anchor sinking beneath the surface, sends guilt clawing through his insides, his heart aching at the hollow feeling it leaves. 

"I ---" The words catch in his throat like glass. "I left it at the bunk." 

Storms build in Gray's eyes, anger and hurt flickering in his gaze, and Zach swallows. "You're a crappy liar, Zach." The thirteen year old mutters. 

Zach sighs. "Gray ---"

"What'd you do with it?" Gray pushes.

"I was angry at you, okay?" Zach snaps, wishing nothing more at that moment than to be back at the bunk, or walking the miles of sand with Owen --- anywhere but _here_ , watching his brother's trust in him fall apart. 

"When are you ever _not_ angry with me?" Gray retorts, his small hands clenched into fists at his sides.  His eyes are bright with tears, and Zach realizes, with a painful jolt, that this has been a fight long overdue. Then he turns away, and for a second, Zach thinks he's done with arguing. But then he looks up again, meeting his gaze. Zach's heart aches at the sudden, overwhelming amount of sadness in his little brother's eyes --- and it's with a sickening thud that he realizes; it's the same look that's been in his eyes for weeks now. How had Zach missed it? 

Gray sucks in his lower lip, something he's done since he was a baby, and hides his face under his mop of mousey brown hair; and suddenly he's seven again, running into Zach's arms after he'd gotten teased one too many times at school, dirt and tears staining his face. He shakes his head. "You know, I hope mum and dad divorce. That way you won't have to put up with me ever again." He says quietly, and then he's tearing out of the elevator.

Zach stands in shocked silence, his feet nailed to the floor, and it's only when the doors begin to slide shut again that he takes after his brother. The hotel door slams shut seconds before he reaches it, and a lump forms in his throat, the hot sting of tears building in his eyes. "Gray!" He shouts, his voice choked, but there's no response. 

He isn't sure how long he stands there, rooted to the spot, his bones heavy like lead as he steps away from the door.

The walk back to the raptor facility lasts a decade, the darkness setting in with a terrifying swiftness. Yellow light beams across the clearing, and Zach can see a shadow moving near the containment cells, and for a moment his muscles tense. Then he hears a quiet murmuring, a sound that's become so familiar to him that he nearly cries, and he's making his way into the cage before he can stop himself. 

Owen's kneeling beside Blue, speaking to the raptor under his breath, but he looks up when Zach walks in. "Zach ---" He starts, a little surprised, but then he frowns. "What's wrong?"

Zach's fucking _furious_ \--- at himself, at Gray, at Owen and Claire. If he'd just stayed at home, if they hadn't gone on this stupid fucking trip, everything would've been okay. Not talking to Gray, that he'd been able to handle. But this is much, much worse. He feels like his heart's been ripped out through his ribcage, and knowing that it's his fault only makes it infinitely more painful.

And when he sees Owen's face, all it does is stir up the rage he'd felt this morning.

"You're kind of an asshole, you know." Zach spits abruptly, the anger rising inside him hot and fleeting as he steps into Owen's space.

Owen blinks slowly, studying Zach with dark, curious eyes. "I've been told as much. Why?" He asks, his voice low and steady. 

"You're always preaching about respect and trust --- yet as soon as shit gets bad, you go back to treating me like a kid." Zach snaps. "You're a hypocrite."

Owen's eyes narrow, his lips pressing together in a firm line, but he doesn't seem angry. "Zach, what's wrong?" He repeats, careful.

"You just --- you treat me like a kid and then expect me to act like an adult when it suits you. Pick one or the other, you don't get both. I'm _sick_ of it ---" He hisses, but he never gets a chance to finish the sentence. Owen steps forward, closing the space between them, claiming his lips with one hard, heated kiss. 

Zach gasps against his lips, fumbling for a moment before his hands settle on Owen's chest, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He leans into it, but Owen pulls away just a fraction of an inch, his eyes hooded and dark with hunger even as he gives Zach the chance to push him away. Zach doesn't hesitate, pulling Owen in again, and then they're stumbling backwards, Zach's back hitting the wall, and Owen's fingers are knotting in his hair. Zach feels like he's burning up, Owen's hand leaving trails of fire on his skin, setting him alight ---

"Do you hear that?" Owen asks suddenly, and Zach is tempted to swallow the words with a kiss, but he'd heard it too. A man's voice, gruff and low, coming from the bridge. They pull away, slinking across the wall and peering around the corner so they can see. 

The light of the cage barely reaches the bridge, just enough to differentiate the dark sky from the silhouette moving across it. Owen reaches back, as if he's going to push Zach back behind the safety of the wall, but then he grasps his hand in the darkness, pressing back against the wall to allow him to look. 

"It's Hoskins." He murmurs, his warm breath tickling the hair around Zach's ear.

Zach squints, but then the shadow turns, and the dim light of a cellphone spills across the man's face. "What the fuck is he doing here?" He asks, his heart beginning to flutter in his chest. More importantly, had he seen them?

Owen doesn't answer immediately, instead pulling him out of view. "Let's find out." He says, his voice low, and then he disappears around the corner. Zach wonders if a requirement of being a Navy SEAL is the ability to become invisible at a moment's notice, because it takes a good minute of searching to find Owen in the darkness. He's crouching underneath the stairs that lead up to the bridge, and he holds his finger to his lips as Zach sidles up to him. 

Hoskins is clearly doing his best to keep quiet, but it's obvious he doesn't think there's anyone around to hear him. The metal steps clang painfully loud, and they hear him hesitate, his voice ceasing for a minute. Zach holds his breath, hoping Owen can't hear how hard his heart is pounding.

"I told you, they don't know a thing. I just went and cleared the security footage before Grady and his jailbait had the chance to snoop through it." He snorts, continuing down the stairs. 

Owen seems to growl at the words, his entire body going stone-still, and Zach has to restrain himself from leaping out of hiding, fists clenched. He has to commend Hoskins on his foresight though --- regardless of the fact that he'd been about twenty four hours too late. 

"Look, the containment gates are ready. You're the strategist here, Drew. It's your job to keep the raptors away from the civilians while I convince Grady to step in. We want a _close call_ , not death tolls." Hoskins warns, passing directly over their heads as he makes his way downstairs. They miss the rest of the conversation, as he makes his way towards an Asset Containment ute parked in the trees. They don't move, not until the car's engine fades out of hearing, and even then Owen seems wary. 

"What was he talking about?" Zach asks, crawling out from under the stairs. Owen helps him up, his expression pensive.

"Hoskins has been riding my ass about a field test for a few months now. Drew Leggett is part of the Asset Containment unit. If Hoskins has been messing around with the enclosure's gates ---" He explains.

"He's planning to let the raptors loose." Zach finishes, catching up fast. 

"If the raptors get out, I'd be the only one who could get them back to the enclosure." Owen says, shaking his head in furious disbelief. "It's a field test."

"Owen ---" Zach starts, as the older man starts towards the quad, a look of fierce determination glinting in his eyes --- determination, and _anger_ , the same irrational anger that has screwed Zach over so many times.

"I'm going to put a hole in his head." Owen growls, but he doesn't get more than a few steps before Zach latches onto his arm, pulling him to a stop.

"You can't just barrel in there all guns blazing, Owen. If Asset Containment knows about this, then it's worse than anything we can fix on our own." He points out, and Owen's jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue.

When he's sure Owen isn't going to take off like a rampaging bull, Zach pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing his aunt's number without a second thought. Owen looks like he wants to object, but he presses his lips together, watching with dark eyes. Zach isn't sure he wants to know what went down between his aunt and the raptor handler.

It's late, but his aunt is a true workaholic, and she sounds more confused than tired when she picks up the phone. "Zach? What's up?" She asks. 

He explains the situation as best as he can, glossing over _why_ exactly they'd been in the position to overhear Hoskins in the first place. Claire is silent all the way through, and when he finishes, there's a long moment of quiet before she speaks. "Zach, this isn't just Owen getting into your head, is it ---" She starts.

Zach feels a hot lash of anger coil inside him. "What? No! I know what I heard, Claire. Please --- just look into it." He pleads.

Claire exhales, and when she speaks again, she sounds frayed, stressed. "Okay, Zach. I'll do what I can. Just --- don't get hurt, okay?" She begs, and a rush of warmth floods Zach's veins. Workaholic or not, he knows his aunt cares for them --- more than she'd ever admit. 

"I'll be fine." He promises, and then he hangs up. Owen's watching him with an indiscernible look. "Claire's going to find out what's going on." He says.

"Zach, I don't ---" Owen begins, reluctant.

Zach cuts him off, wrapping his fingers around Owen's wrist. The man looks worried, but he stops talking, studying Zach's expression. "Please, just trust me. We need Claire's help on this. I don't know what happened between you two, but it doesn't matter right now." He says. "I'm not going to watch Hoskins get the raptors and everybody on this goddamned island killed."

Owen doesn't answer, instead dipping down to brush his lips against Zach's. It's gentler than before, hesitant even, but it still sends shivers down his spine. 

"You told me you had faith in me." Zach murmurs when their lips part, and Owen holds him close, pulling him back to hide in the shadows.

"I still do." Owen answers simply, as if it's a given --- that he'd always have faith in Zach.

Zach hopes with all his being that that's true. 

"Then this is your chance to prove it."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Exams are over and I'm back to posting chapters as often as possible.
> 
> \--- Laylen.


	4. Storm

To the outsider's eye, it would appear that nothing had changed. Owen and Zach spend every waking moment with the raptors --- and with each other. It's partly a distraction, because Zach's sure the only thing stopping Owen from shooting Hoskins at point blank is his promise that night, but mostly they can't bear the thought of something happening to the raptors while their backs are turned. 

So maybe it means Zach only gets two hours of sleep, running on caffeine and adrenalin, and so maybe by the next day he's beginning to think they've got this all wrong --- some massively convoluted misunderstanding. 

Or maybe that's wishful thinking. 

Either way, nothing has happened yet, and he's growing restless.

The raptors are roaming the outer paddock, their hungry keening heard even from inside the concrete walls of the main paddock. Zach tosses a bucket of feed --- frozen rats that they'd thawed out this morning --- into a nook underneath the fallen log and makes his way back to where Owen is waiting for him. 

The outer paddock gates grind open as they walk up to the bridge, and beneath them, Zach can hear the eager chittering of the pack as they hunt. He leans against the railing to peer down at them, then thinks twice, crossing his arms instead. "You heard back from Claire today?" Owen asks, glancing at him.

Zach sighs, shaking his head. "Not since yesterday. She asked Lowery to go through all the security footage but there was some sort of _computer malfunction_ , all the data on the enclosure was erased." He grits his teeth. "Owen, I don't like this. It feels like we've realized what's going on too late."

"It'll be okay, Zach." Owen reassures him, reaching over to lay a hand on his shoulder. Zach flinches inwardly, his eyes flicking to the side to check if anybody's watching them, but Owen keeps his distance. There's nobody around, but Zach can't bear the thought of him getting into trouble over this. Still, he doesn't miss the way Owen brushes his thumb gently down his arm, a silent reassurance. 

They hear the cage door slide open to their left, and then footsteps clang up the stairs. Owen drops his hand, just as Barry appears at the end of the bridge, looking equally as stressed as them. "How are the girls?" He asks, and Zach hears the underlying question in his voice.

"Fine, a little skittish." Owen replies evenly. 

Barry leans against the railing, his face pensive. "Probably itching to be run." He huffs. "We'll go through a basic drill and then let them back into the outer paddock. Nobody round here is in the mood for anything too complicated."

Zach hums in agreement. They work the raptors into basic formations, but it's clear their focus isn't wholly on the trainers. Zach doesn't blame them --- if somebody had been messing around with his home, he'd be pissed too. They're running the perimeter when the youngest of the pack falls out of line. 

Zach exchanges a confused look with Owen, stepping up to the rails to watch. Echo lets out a long, keening wail, and Zach feels a burst of anxiety grip his chest. "What's wrong with her?" He asks, his hands tightening on the metal rails.

"Back in line, Echo." Owen calls out firmly, but the raptor just circles underneath the bridge, pawing nervously at the ground. The others chitter back to her, but she doesn't respond. 

"Something's wrong, Owen." Zach stresses, and then he darts off, taking the steps two at a time. The other two trainers follow without a word. He stops at the cage gate, a breath caught in his throat. Echo nears the gate, her eyes fixed on Zach as she whines. He leans closer, letting his hand slip through the bars. The raptor flinches at the movement, and Zach's heart pounds against his chest. Then she ducks her head, leaning into his open palm. 

Zach exhales in relief, stroking the raptor's jaw gently. He can feel Owen watching him, but he ignores his searching eyes. "Good girl." He murmurs, and the raptor huffs in response. She begins to settle after that, shuffling back towards the rest of the pack, but it's left them all with a sickening, choked sense of tension, like they're rats caught up a drainpipe. 

Neither of them say the obvious. She was warning them.

The training session passes quickly after that, and Barry waves them off when they offer to stick around. The drive back is quiet, and Zach can feel the stress in the tense set of Owen's shoulders. They drift down the shoreline, the tires dragging through the soft sand. They pass by the bunk, but the quad doesn't slow until it reaches the grass, climbing the slope towards a more isolated cluster of trees a few hundred meters from the bunk. The quad finally slows to a crawl, rounding the thick foliage to reveal a small wooden building. 

Owen stands to let Zach off, and they make their way towards it. As they near it, Zach decides that maybe _building_ isn't the right word to describe the place. It's a small wooden shack, no bigger than Zach's room back at home, the makeshift patio cluttered with an array of fishing gear and rusted motorcycle parts. 

Owen climbs the steps and slides the bungalow's door open, stepping inside. Zach hesitates for a fleeting moment before he follows him in. It looks like somebody had tried to tidy up, but there's still shirts and paper scraps strewn across the floor, the blue double bed in the corner made in a half-assed attempt. Light filters through a window that faces the seaside, the familiar smell of ocean and pine washing into the room. 

Owen stands in the kitchenette, reaching into the cupboard for a bottle of whiskey. "We should've stayed at the enclosure." Zach mutters, settling down on the end of the bed, feeling a little awkward.

Owen snorts. "So you can pass out from exhaustion if anything goes wrong? I don't think so, kid." Zach doesn't reply, gratefully accepting the glass that Owen passes him. He tips it back, holding back a cough as the drink burns down his throat. "You just need to try rest up. Relax. Hoskins can probably smell the stress from a mile away."

Zach grimaces. "That's not exactly comforting." He points out, and Owen sits down beside him, bumping his shoulder.

"Sorry, I'm just worried about you. You're burning yourself out over all of this." Owen sighs. "You can talk to me, you know. I know it's not just the raptors that are stressing you out."

He hesitates. It's not that he doesn't trust Owen --- the exact opposite, in fact, he trusts him with his life --- but he's not used to opening up to people. What's more, Zach's not used to people wanting to _listen_. He explains the fight he and Gray had gotten into, and even as he speaks, his throat begins to close up. It's his fault they fought in the first place, his fault his little brother hates him.

Zach reaches for his phone, speed-dialling Gray without a second's hesitation. The call cuts straight to voicemail, and a wave of guilt and regret hits him like a storm.

 _Fuck_ , he's an idiot.

"Hey, Zach. Zach, it's okay." Owen's voice breaks through the wall of guilt threatening to drown him, his tone firm. "You two will bounce back. He just needs to calm down." A hand settles on his forearm. Zach looks up, meeting Owen’s steady gaze. “We’ve got time. Make the most of it. Go — go swim, relax while you still can.” 

Zach blinks in surprise, but Owen is serious — if a little reluctant. 

So they strip down to their boxer shorts — or rather, Zach does. Owen sits on the beach while he swims, arms resting on the tops of his knees. He dips below the surface, his eyes slipping shut against the sting of seawater. Beneath the water, there’s nothing but an almost soundless rush of the waves above his head. It’s quiet. Too quiet. Zach can’t handle that emptiness for more than a few seconds, left in silence with his thoughts, and he plunges back to the surface to gasp for air. When he finally makes his way back up the beach, the sun is dipping low upon the horizon. His body casts a long shadow across the sand, shivering slightly despite the remnants of the sun’s warmth.

Back at the bungalow, Owen digs through a trunk of clothes. Zach stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed, shivering in his damp towel. “Here.” Owen says, passing Zach a faded grey tee and some some sweatpants. “They might be a bit big, but it’s better than nothing.”

Zach turns a furious shade of red. Owen seems to contemplate his own words for a second, then shrugs. Still, he turns away while Zach changes, which is oddly endearing. The shirt is baggy, the neckline draped over his collarbones, but the material is soft and well-worn. He clears his throat, and Owen turns around. 

The look that crosses over the blond’s face is downright fucking _primal_.

Zach isn’t sure what it is that’s done it; him in Owen’s clothing, or maybe just the image of Zach standing beside the bed. Whatever it was, it sends a rush of heat to Zach’s cheeks — among other places. He coughs again. It seems to break Owen from his reverie.

“I can drive you back to the bunk, if you want —” Owen starts.

“— No.”

“…I — yeah, okay.”

And just like, Owen’s crossing the room, gathering Zach up in his arms, and Zach barely registers it until Owen’s mouth is against his — hot and hard. He gasps, his lips parting instinctively, and he reaches up to knot his finger in Owen’s shirt. They stumble backwards, and _fuck_ — if this is what Owen meant by relaxing, Zach’s all for it.

Then the room shifts, and suddenly he’s flat on his back, chest to chest with the blond. They’re still kissing, barely breathing, drowning. Owen’s careful to keep his weight off him, one arm above Zach’s head, but then there’s the problem of wandering hands and something in Owen must scream _fuck this_ because he flips the two of them and suddenly _Zach’s_ above him — 

“Fuck.” Owen mutters, his lips spit-slick and swollen as they part. 

Zach hums in agreement, shifting his body weight as though it’s natural to him; like the only place he belonged was kneeling between Owen’s thighs, hands grasping desperately. He pushes his shirt up, dragging the fabric up and over Owen’s head, and then he’s got free access. He knew Owen was ripped — how couldn’t he? But there’s knowing and then there’s actually seeing 6’ 2” of suntanned skin and _pure fucking muscle_ laying underneath him. 

Zach can’t fucking help it. He rolls his hips down, crying out at the contact. Owen lets out a low moan, his hands coming up to grip Zach’s hips. “Goddamn, Zach. Do that again.” Owen exhales, his skin flushed beautifully. Zach does as he’s told, and Owen’s reaction is breathtaking. He cranes his head up, reaching to capture Zach’s lips with his own and —

The phone rings.

Zach is going to smash the everloving shit out of it.

He almost does, but then reality sinks in with a sickening snap. He rolls off Owen, the smell of arousal and heat cloying in the room. The other man sits up, struggling to steady his breath. Zach feels a little proud that he’s invoked such a reaction, but then the phone rings again, and he snaps out of his thoughts. 

“Barry.” Owen says in greeting. “I — no, I’m fine — Zach’s right here, what’s going on? Wait, what do you mean — oh shit.”

Zach isn’t aware he’s holding his breath until Owen hangs up, and he inhales, his lungs aching. “What’s wrong? The raptors, are they okay?” He pushes, fear rising in his throat.

Owen gives him a soft, pitiful look, and just like that, Zach knows. 

His heart is crashing, it’s breaking.

“It’s your brother, Zach.” 

 

 

Moonlight casts a light across the trails as Owen drives, the engine snarling as he floors it to the raptor facility. Zach is caught in a unrelenting tug-of-war between terrified hysteria and unabating shock behind him. The result is dead silence from his part, only the stiff grip of his arms around Owen’s chest to reassure him that the boy is in fact still alive. 

They make it in the blink of an eye, but it’s still not soon enough.

Zach stumbles as he gets off the quad, nearly taking a dive towards the ground before Owen catches him. They make their way to the cage, where Barry is talking to a redhead dressed in white. Owen recognises her before she even turns around. She hasn’t changed since they last met: still the same coppery bob, the willowy, elf-like features.

Claire Dearing turns as they approach, the floodlight illuminating the paleness of her face. She looks sick to her stomach — a look Owen has never seen on her before. They’d dated once, then she’d dug up his background and found out about his brother. Claire blamed him, said he horrified her. Owen’s surprised she hadn’t pulled Zach out of the training job the moment she found out who was mentoring him. 

Still, it’s in the past. There’s more pressing matters at hand — like Zach, two breaths away from irrevocable hysteria.

Claire pulls Zach into a crushing hug the moment she catches sight of him, which has to be a first, but then Owen sees the puffy redness in her eyes. The smudged mascara on her eyelids. And there he is, back to feeling like a colossal asshole.

“Aunt Claire, what happened? Where’s Gray?” Zach pleads, his voice catching painfully. “Where’s my baby brother?”

Claire steps back, composing herself after a deep breath. “Zara called me an hour ago. She hasn’t seen Gray since last night. She thought he might be with you, but then I called Barry and…” She shakes her head. “He’s missing, Zach.”

Owen can hear the exact moment Zach decides that this is fault. He can see the way his entire body slumps, can feel the weight of the world as it shifts itself directly onto Zach’s shoulders. He can feel it because he’s felt it before, and it’s something he’s never been able to shake.

_He should've stayed, should've apologised —_

Owen knows those thoughts.

_He should've been a better brother._

Owen can pinpoint the exact moment Zach’s entire world comes crashing down, and suddenly he’s leaping to gather up the pieces.

They spend the entire night searching. They look everywhere: the tyrannosaurus enclosure, the main road and the holographic museum, every inch of the hotel. There’s no trace of the thirteen year old. With every place they come up empty-handed, Zach grows more and more agitated. Eventually enough of a search team gathers, and Owen takes Zach by the hand and pulls him aside. The boy looks like he wants to struggle, but he’s weak, his legs shaking as they try to hold up their own weight. Sunrise is only an hour away, they’ve searched for hours now.

“You need to rest.” Owen decides.

Zach shakes his head desperately. “No, Gray —” He tries, his voice hoarse.

Owen’s heart aches. “We’ll find him, Zach. I promise.” He soothes, pulling the boy closer so he can press a kiss in his hair. “But we need you alive if you’re going to help us find him, not dead from sleep exhaustion. I need you to be okay, Zach. Just sleep, for a little while.” He says gently.

Zach buries his face in Owen’s shoulder and nods after a long moment, clinging to his vest. They head back to the bungalow — Claire looks like she wants to question it, but she just nods helplessly and turns back to their frantic searching. The door swings open easily, and Owen half-carries the exhausted boy inside. The bedsheets are still tangled from earlier, and he lays Zach gently down on the blanket. He pauses to take Zach’s converses off, then his own boots and vest, and slides into the sheets beside him.

There’s a good few inches between the two of them. Owen isn’t sure where they stand, figured it was better to leave that conversation until Zach was functional. But then he feels the mattress shift, and then there’s the warmth of another body pressing against his side, an arm reaching over his chest to pull closer. It’s a different sort of closeness than before, the desperate need for familiarity, for something that Zach could anchor himself to.

Owen presses another kiss into his hair, and finally the tears break free, Zach sobbing into his skin.

They drift off with the sea, the tide pulling, pulling at them until they’re just clinging to each other in the deep.

 

 

Everything hurts. 

It’s the first thing Zach registers. He claws his way to consciousness, his limbs heavy like lead. There’s a brief, empty second of silence as the disconnect between mind and body closes. Then he lets out a muffled cry, scrambling to sit up.

Owen is snoring lightly beside him. Muted grey light feeds through the blinds above their heads, casting a hazy glow across the room. If it weren’t for the memory of last night’s terror, the ache in his muscles from stress, he’s sure this would be a wonderful way to wake up.

He’s still wearing his jeans, but his shoes and socks are placed neatly beside the bed. He slips the worn converses on, raking a hand through his hair anxiously. Owen is still sleeping when he finally stands up, so he shakes the man awake.

“What time is it?” Owen mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Can’t be later than eight.” Zach guesses, glancing out the window. Storm clouds are gathering on the horizon, the sky grey and violet.

Owen sits up while Zach watches out the window, fumbling for his phone. He hears the press of buttons, then the dial tone. Owen flicks the phone onto speaker mode.

“ _Jesus_ , Owen! I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half hour now.”

“I was asleep. Did they find him?” Owen asks. 

Zach can hear the ocean roaring in his head. Or maybe it’s real; the churning blue-black water in the distance, the white-capped waves breaking against the rocks. There’s a storm building. Zach feels like he’s the cause of it.

“That’s not what I’m calling about, Owen.” Barry breaks in. There’s a moment of dead silence, then the waves are crashing again. “He did it, Owen. Hoskins. The raptors broke free.”

 _Crash_.

“They’ve escaped into the park.”

 _Crash, crash_ —

“We can’t find Gray.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start: I get it, I get it. I'm an awful human being, I'm a liar who can't keep promises.
> 
> I swear I'll get this finished in the next week or two, or ya'll can get out the burning torches and pitchforks out. One more chapter, guys. Hold on for me.
> 
> That said, HI I'M BACK DID YOU MISS ME. I forgot how much I love this pairing. Just a short chapter here because really, the big stuff is only just about to begin aND I AM SO FUCKING PUMPED TO WRITE IT FOR YOU GUYS.
> 
> Seriously, people. I swears it.


	5. Tides

 

_I will rise,_  
_after every fall._  
_I will rise,_  
_and stand even more tall._

— _s.y._

 

The ground shakes with the thunder of a thousand feet against concrete. All around him is a blur of faces: families and strangers gripped with unrelenting terror, the cries of young children filling the plaza. 

Lowery Cruthers skirts around the edge of a collapsed margarita stand, glass and napkins strewn across the ground in the crowd’s panicked rush. The emergency sirens blare over the speakers, the deafening noise broken only by a periodic call of, “ _There has been an issue with one of the attractions, please seek shelter_.”

Claire is demanding he hurry up, and he touches his earpiece with a wince as it crackles. “Okay, okay! I’m almost there.” He replies. The weight of the hard drive in his jacket pocket bangs against his hip as he runs. It’s a little known secret in the department. They’ve always kept backups of the security tapes, stored on a small hard drive in the back of the research facility.

Whether Hoskins knows is another story.

Just as he rounds the corner to their headquarters, he’s cut off. A grey-blue shape shoves past him, knocking him flat off his feet. He reaches up to adjust his glasses. There’s a raptor not five feet from him, snarling and snapping at a young woman. She’s screaming, trying in desperation to cover her three children. The raptor rears back, jaw opening. Lowery scrambles backwards, feeling blindly behind him — until his fingers close around a rock, and he hurls it like a skipping stone. 

It hits the creature in the side of its face. The animal whines, shuffling backwards with a disconcerted shake of its head. Taking his cue, he darts to his feet and sweeps the older toddler up in his arms. The young mother cries out in relief and picks up the other two with some sort of adrenalin-filled superhuman strength. They stumble up the steps towards the entrance.

Lowery slams the door shut, setting the kid down.

The mother sobs into her child’s curly hair. “Thank you, thank you thank —” She cries.

He hesitates for a second, lingering at the door, before remembering the weight of the hard drive. Lowery takes off, tripping forward as he shoves through the door to the main room. Immediately, a set of rough arms catch him, dragging him to his feet.

Lowery takes a gasping breath, steadying himself. The security guard lets him go — mostly, leaving one hand tightly gripped on his forearm like he’s a startled animal who might flee. “You can’t be here, sir. This is a restricted area.” The man warns.

Lowery scoffs, pointing to his badge. “Yeah, genius, I know. I work here. Let me through —”

The guard’s face hardens into a grimace. “I don’t think you understand.” The man says, slowly. “We were shown video footage of a Mr Owen Grady and his coworker releasing the raptors. InGen has seized control over this facility, you no longer have access to this division.”

Lowery looks over the man’s shoulder, but it seems to be true for the most part. His few remaining coworkers are huddling in the corner, being shepherded out of the room by a stoic-faced woman in black security force-issued gear. Claire is nowhere to be seen. He looks back at the man, his heart dropping into his stomach. This is it: Owen and the Mitchell kid are so _screwed_ —

“Let them through, son.”

Lowery turns in surprise.

It’s him — of course it is, no one other than Owen has ever had the guts to stand up to armed InGen troops. Masrani is as clean-cut as ever, dressed in a grey suit, his expression collected despite the tension in the air. Claire stands behind him, chin up, lips pursed. 

The guard hesitates. “Strict orders, sir, nobody is to enter this room until further —”

“You’re following the wrong orders. Make way for Mr. Cruthers.” Masrani says placidly, nodding towards the computers. Lowery sidesteps the soldier and sits down at his desk, plugging the hard drive in with shaking hands. 

Immediately, a popup appears, demanding a password for the files. He types it in and the videos load onto his screen. There’s hundreds, the videos dating back to the beginning of the park. But there’s only one he needs.

Behind him, Claire is arguing with the guard. He barely catches what she’s saying, only glancing over his shoulder when he hears a sudden _thump_ and a pained yell. Claire is holding her fist, rubbing her knuckles with a grimace. The security guard is clutching his jaw. There’s something oddly satisfying about the whole image.

Lowery grins — then promptly gets back to work when Claire fixes him with a look that says _you’re next if you don’t hurry up._

 

 

They can’t see anything. 

There’s a river of people shoving at them from all directions, pouring out of cafes and swelling across the plaza. Zach holds his ground, and when the road clears a little, he starts towards where Owen is helping one of the park rangers to his feet.

The stampede parts around them like a river around a rock. The ranger, a burly man with wire-framed glasses and a scraped jaw, is gesturing towards one of the backroads. “… spotted ‘em just east of the Innovation Centre, last I heard.” Zach hears as he gets closer. “Says they picked up some sort of trail outside the research facility and now they’re not letting anyone get in their way to it.”

Owen thanks the man with a tense nod, moving past him to get to Zach. “We’ll head through the side street, Allen says there’s troops on the main road to the Innovation Centre.”

Zach’s heard of the research facility only in passing. All he knows is that the genetic engineers conducted most of their experiments in there, that it’d been Henry Wu’s department until the genetic modification rumours. He’s got no idea what the raptors might’ve taken interest in there.

They skirt around the side of the buildings, narrowly avoiding the armed guards lining the upper street. He wants to call out that their guns aren’t worth shit against the raptors, but Owen motions for him to follow. The research facility is a mostly inconspicuous building, the grey stone and marble architecture blending in with the rest of the park. But as they pass it, it becomes apparent that it’s no tourist attraction. 

A fluorescent orange sign on the entrance reads, _Authorised Personnel Only!_  

Zach walks by with a rising feeling of worry. 

Owen turns to him. 

“You hear that —”

A piercing scream cuts him off. 

Zach takes off. His heart threatens to burst from his ribcage. He knows that scream — there’s no way he couldn’t. Every muscle in his body aches with the effort, but he’s still not going fast enough. He won’t get there soon enough, _fuck!_ — 

He almost doesn’t see him. 

Zach stumbles out of the alley, eyes searching wildly. They’ve made it to the plaza, and in the far distance he can see InGen soldiers. They cross into the street, rifles at the ready. The soldiers notice him instantly, and he hears a shout as they start running, guns aiming — 

It’s not him they’re aiming for.

The raptors are circling a huddled blue shape on the concrete steps. As he nears, he sees a mop of unruly blond-brown hair, tear-streaked eyes squeezed shut. 

“ _Gray!_ ” Zach shouts. 

The raptors’ heads swivel round to eye him. His stomach lurches. 

“Zach? Zach, help me!” Gray cries, rubbing his eyes. 

Owen appears out of the alleyway at that moment. The InGen soldiers are seconds away. There’s a sickening moment of utter stillness, as the raptors contemplate their options. Then they turn, and it’s towards Gray, teeth snapping. 

Zach throws himself in front of them. He steadies his feet, positioning himself protectively in front of Gray. 

The raptors snarl at him, but they don’t advance. They can’t decide whether to trust him. He’s not their alpha. That was always Owen’s title. They’ve got no reason to listen to him, and yet — 

“Back off, Blue.” Zach says. His voice is straining. They can hear his fear. It’s palpable, bitter on his tongue. One step closer. He holds his ground. “I said _back off._ ”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Owen, unsure of whether to intervene. If he stepped closer, he might scare the raptors, they’d attack Zach and Gray without a second thought. They’re out of options: it’s up to Zach. Suddenly the world feels a whole lot heavier. 

Zach swallows. 

His eyes focus on Blue first, then slide over the other two, settling on Echo. The runt is furthest from their prey, standing at her sisters’ tails, but her eyes are clear. There’s no anger in them, no wild blood thirst. Just instinct, pure and simple. There’s never been any hate in them. And suddenly Zach’s standing on the bridge again, Echo moving under his command, watchful eyes locked on him.

“Come on, girl.” Zach says, softer now. “I need you now.”

The raptor shuffles on her feet, huffing hot breath out of her nostrils. Her sisters creep closer, but he doesn’t flinch. InGen is surrounding them, guns cocking. Zach can’t see them, lets the rest of the world fall away for a moment.

“Please, Echo. I’m asking for your help.” He says, outstretching one hand slowly. “All I want to do is protect my family. You’d do the same.”

The grey raptor huffs again, but it’s gentler. She paws at the ground, her head dipping to meet his gaze properly. Zach’s entire body is whipcord tight but his heart aches. It’s the same pain he felt when the raptor got hurt during the training run: that feeling like his chest had a chain around it, the pain of seeing how everyone underestimated the youngest raptor; the ache of guilt because, to Zach, it felt _familiar_. 

“I get it, girl. I get it.” Zach whispers, even though she can’t understand the words. She doesn’t have to, she just has to trust him. “Please. Let me fix this.”

Echo tosses her head, and Zach fights the urge to tell Gray to run. He needs to trust the pack if he wants them to trust him. Then the raptor nudges Blue’s flank, pushing past the others to stand in front of Zach. She eyes him for a long moment, then ducks her head to brush against the palm of his hand. He breathes a sigh of relief, stroking her mottled grey skin. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Owen visibly relax, the tension dissipating for a fleeting moment.

“This is Asset Containment, please step away from the assets so we may contain them.”

Zach ignores the shout. He turns back to Gray, helping his little brother to his feet. The moment he’s standing, Gray throws his arms around his waist, crying into his shirt. Zach lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding, tightening his grip on the younger boy. “It’s okay, Gray, I’ve got you.” He mumbles into his hair. “You scared me so much."

Zach hadn’t noticed Owen approach, but suddenly he’s beside them, one hand gripping Zach’s forearm. The raptors have shifted, turning to face off the Asset Containment soldiers. Zach releases Gray, shouldering him behind them, and lifts his gaze. Hoskins is standing behind the troops, hands on his hips. 

“I told you boys it was a bad idea.” He calls out jovially. 

Owen glares at the man. “What the hell are you talking about, Hoskins?” He snaps.

“Don’t play dumb, Owen. They all know already. How you jeopardised the safety — the _integrity_ of the entire park so you could run a field test.” Hoskins spits, his nose wrinkling. “You’re in for a _world_ of trouble — both of you.”

The man takes a step forward, and immediately the raptors let out a chorus of low snarls. Hoskins flinches, his face paling slightly. Asset Containment waits on his word, still like statues around them. Owen shakes his head with disgust. “Oh, you are so full of _shit_.”

At that second, Blue springs forward. An explosion of gunshots erupt in the plaza, and Zach cries out, shielding Gray. 

Owen steps forward, reaching to calm his beta. “ _Blue, stop!_ —”

The words die on his lips.

He watches as the man freezes on the steps, arm half-outstretched, drops of blood falling onto the grey concrete beneath him. He staggers slightly, half-turning to look at Zach in surprise, then he’s pitching forward, and the world falls down with him. Zach hears a horrible scream — one that rips through the air like a knife, one that he barely recognises as his own — and then he’s diving forward to catch Owen’s body before it hits the ground. He kneels on the steps, blood pooling around his knees as the gunfire sounds off. 

The raptors have encircled him once more, but the world has collapsed away, leaving nothing but one blood-stained concrete step and the rushing thunder of a sea storm in his ears. He can feel the rise and fall of Owen’s collapsing lungs, can feel the tide trying to pull them apart, and suddenly there’s a hurricane dying at his fingertips.

 

 

Security swarms Claire in a flash. Two hands grip her by the shoulders and start pulling her towards the exit. She struggles, lifting her chin to glare at the guards haughtily. Another InGen troop moves to haul Lowery to his feet, reaching to restrain his arms. A storm of gunshots echo from outside, and Claire’s blood runs cold. The security feeds aimed on the plaza show the circle of Asset Containment troops around the raptors, but the creatures block Zach from view. She clenches her fists in anxiety, nails biting into her skin.

“ _I found it!_ ”

The guards pause for a brief second. Lowery shakes them off and rolls his chair closer to the desk, dragging the video to a frame halfway through the clip. Masrani steps closer, staring at the computer with an unreadable expression. “Man, I legit thought this was the end of us — but here it is. Zach was telling the truth.” He looks over his shoulder at Claire, and she stills, watching the video. 

Then she turns her head to offer the guard holding her arm a stare that could cut stone.

“Let go of me.”

The man releases her, probably in fear of his life, and takes a step back. Claire pushes past him to get a clearer look at the computer screen. Lowery is watching her with a mixture of shocked relief and mild smugness. She ignores it, looking to Masrani for approval. He nods once, his lips pressed tight, and she reaches up to touch her earpiece.

“This is Claire Dearing. ACU, you have direct order from Mr Masrani to back down and arrest Hoskins for treason and endangering the safety of the park. If anybody so much as lays a finger on Mr Grady or my nephew, there will be hell to pay.”

 

 

By the time they make it out onto the plaza, they’ve already called for an emergency helicopter. Claire fights her way through the soldiers, smacking their arms out of the way when they yell for her to stay back. Then they finally part, and her feet stop moving. She’s utterly still, her breath catching in her throat.

It’s Zach she sees first. 

His skin pale, streaked with dirt and tears. Dark hair blown back as the helicopter lands, wind beating the sides of the buildings and rushing around them. There’s blood on his hands and his clothes, staining the concrete steps and streaming around the feet of the raptors, who still guard over them. He’s wrought with desperation, and there’s a fleeting moment where Claire wonders what on earth could make Zach look like he’d seen the world come crashing down.

Then her gaze falls onto the limp, bloody figure in his arms, and it’s with a quiet “ _oh,”_ like the air’s been ripped out of her lungs.

The helicopter stirs a hurricane through the street, and she steps forward gingerly, calling out to Zach as softly as she can. 

Her nephew looks up, breathing heavily. There’s a flash of sinking relief in his expression that makes Claire’s heart ache, then he shifts, taking one hand off Owen’s bleeding stomach to wave the raptors back. The grey-skinned creatures hesitate, huffing back at him, then slowly recede. She steps through, shoving down the fear that grasps at her as they watch her. As she nears, she sees Gray huddled behind his older brother, clutching at Zach’s hoodie.

Claire drops to her knees on the steps, covering Zach’s hands with her own. Owen gazes up at her, cloudy-eyed, exhausted. 

She swallows, and suddenly a thousand memories of how she tormented this man over his past flood her. How she blamed him for things she knew nothing about. Claire realized years ago that she was in the wrong, but pride kept her from apologising. Now, guilt wells up in her throat, and she chokes out a rough, “ _I’m sorry_ ,” as she presses on his wound.  

Owen nods, and that’s all they need for now. 

The medic team stand several feet from them, waiting with a stretcher to load Owen into the helicopter. The raptors growl in warning, muscles flexing and rippling under their skin. 

“It’s okay, girls. You can stand down, they’re here to help.” Zach promises, clicking his tongue twice. The pack steps back slowly, as they’d done with Claire, and allow the medic team through. There’s promises of _he’ll be okay_ and _he’s strong, he’ll make it_ , but Zach doesn’t seem to hear them. Zach stands, stepping back with exhausted relief, and wipes his bloody hands on his jeans. Claire can’t help but notice he looks older than she remembers.

Everything moves very quickly after that.

InGen drag Hoskins to headquarters in cuffs, and Asset Containment tranquillise the raptors — with Zach’s help. When Claire protests, gripping his arm, he looks at her steadily.

“If they try tranquillise the raptors on their own, the pack’ll go nuts on them. It’ll be safer if I calm them down.” Zach says, gently pulling his arm from her vice-grip. “You need to trust me, Aunt Claire, I’m not a kid anymore.”

Claire stares at him for a long moment, can’t find a way to say that she doesn’t mean to — that she can’t help but look at him and see the reckless seven year old who let himself be swept away in riptides or threw himself down grass hills and laughed at his scraped knees. She can’t find a way to tell him she’s sorry she wasn’t there to watch him grow up. So she lets go of him and nods a little too stiffly. 

Her concern must be written all over her face, because Zach hesitates, then pulls her into a brief hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Zach.” She whispers into his shoulder.

When he pulls back, there’s a smile on his face. It’s small and filled with so much exhaustion — but it’s something.

 

 

At some point, another medic team arrives and pulls Zach aside. Gentle hands guide him towards an ambulance, laying a shock blanket across his shoulders. He doesn’t mind the attention; his bones are weary and his ears still ring with the echo of gunfire. 

Gray is already sitting in the ambulance, his legs crossed underneath him. He blinks up at Zach as he climbs in and sits down beside him. Silence stretches out before them, and every second that passes, Zach can feel the rift between them growing bigger, until he’s looking at his brother and suddenly they’re galaxies apart. He wants to scream out, to drag them back together, but Gray just stares off into the distance.

“I’m sorry about mum and dad.”

Zach jolts a little. “What?”

Gray studies the scratches on his hands. “I was hiding in the Innovation Center, if you were wondering. There’s a storage room. I think the raptors could smell me.” He says offhandedly. Zach doesn’t speak, terrified he’ll scare his little brother away again. “I mean it though. I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry about what, Gray?” Zach asks.

Gray’s gaze lifts to him, and there’s tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “It’s my fault mum and dad are divorcing. I was the one who made them start arguing. Because I was born.” He sniffs, dragging a hand across his face to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “It’s okay if you hate me for taking your home away.”

Zach’s heart breaks for him. 

“I could never hate you, Gray.” He says, his voice breaking. “I didn’t — I’m sorry I blamed you, it was never your fault —”

He breaks off, unable to speak. So he does the only thing his body will allow, and he drags his little brother into a crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, Gray. I never meant any of it.” He whispers. There’s tears falling from his eyes again, streaking down his cheeks, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Mum and dad fought and I was a stupid, scared kid. I thought they were going to tear us apart — I didn’t want to lose you, Gray. I still don’t. It terrified me when you disappeared.”

“But if I hadn’t been born —” Gray sobs.

“It’s not home without you, Gray.” Zach answers, holding him tighter. “You’ll always be my brother. No matter what.”

They don’t say anything else, but it doesn’t matter. They stay huddled together in the ambulance until it’s time to go home — and all that matters is that it’s _together_. They're brothers in the same way the parting waves will always return, how they settle after storms, the unrelenting pull of their tide that could be nothing less than gravity of love; they're brothers in that nothing, come hell or high-water, could keep them apart. 

They don’t say anything else because they don’t need to.

And it’s like the years apart have fallen away in a heartbeat.


	6. Epilogue

 

_Breathe._

_You are a piece of this moving everything._

_And everything is not everything without you._

—n.t

 

Waves fall and break gently against the beach, liquid silver shifting and turning under the moonlight. A fine mist of seawater sprays up against their skin, the water folding over their feet where they stand at the shoreline.

Zach’s fingers entwine with Owen’s.

Behind them, someone is tending to the bonfire. Zach can hear the crackle of wood, can smell the smoke as it curls into the night sky. Laughter and music echo across the beach, but he and Owen are in another world entirely, caught in a moment of familiarity. It’s been months since that first sunset they’d spent together; it feels like years. 

They wade in deeper, until the waves part around their waists, and Owen’s fingers tighten around his own. They’re taking baby steps — that’s okay with Zach, though. They don’t have to rush anymore.

“You think your aunt would kill me if I kissed you right now?” Owen laughs, his voice a little breathy. 

Zach smiled. “Probably, but she’ll get over it.”

Claire doesn’t approve of their relationship, that much Zach knows is certain. But she’s keeping her promise. Treating him like an adult. Trusting him. 

“I hope so.” Owen says, and then he’s turning, dipping down to brush his lips against Zach’s. He lingers for the briefest moment, then pulls back to look at Zach, his eyes dark in the moonlight. The palm of Zach's hand rests over the healing scar on the left side of Owen's ribcage. Waves ebb and flow around them, and Zach imagines them sweeping them away.

“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?” Zach says gently.

Owen turns his gaze to the sea. “I miss him.” He answers. “But it’s… it’s different. They’re good memories to me.”

Zach tries to imagine losing Gray, remembers how close he'd actually come to that, and lets the thought go. He buries his face in Owen’s bare chest, inhaling the familiar saltwater and pine of his skin. They stay like that for a long time, and he wonders how they might look from a distance: a single silhouette against the endless waves, statues breathing quietly under the moonlight.

It doesn’t hit him in the chest so much as softly fall into place, like a key settling into a lock, and even then he doesn’t say it. Instead, he reaches up to draw their lips together, breathing _i love you_ ’s between them,

and it feels like home.


End file.
